


We Were Chased Off the Lake by a Catoblepas

by Azkas19



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aranea's Keeping it Real, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Humor, Iggy Still Can't Figure Her Out, Iggy in Mommy Mode, Ignea Trash, Ignis having erotic thoughts, Jilted Lover, Military! Aranea, Pop Culture, Romance, Sexytimes, Unplanned Pregnancy, hell hath no fury, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-15 12:01:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 147,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9234206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azkas19/pseuds/Azkas19
Summary: A royal wedding documentary is in the works, and Noctis needs an exceptional director to oversee it. Fortunately, there’s one. Unfortunately, it’s someone Ignis does not want to meet again...not after that fling he had with her years ago. AU - Canon divergence.(Disclaimer: No Catoblepas were harmed in the making of this fic)





	1. Who Uses Times New Roman Anymore?

“No. No. No.”

Noctis sighed for the umpteenth time.

The overhead projector switched off, leaving the room in semi-darkness before the lights were turned on again.

“I want a video that’s cool,” he said, glaring at the faces seated at the conference table. “Not some out of date corporate shit that was used 50 years ago. I mean, embossed fonts? Who the hell uses that anymore? This is a wedding, not an advert for lawyers.”

“McKann has always been the official royal video and photographer-” said Ignis.

“Well, get someone else!” Noctis snapped. “Someone who’s in sync with current trends. Someone who doesn’t think that Times New Roman is great for title cards. Someone who’s at _least_ not colourblind. Because it seems like these guys are all that based on what I’ve seen. Dammit, I can’t believe my dad actually _liked_ their work! If it’s something that I don’t want to sit for five minutes to watch, then I don’t want it.”

“Your personal branding _could_ do with an overhaul,” said Iris. “I mean, sure there are some things we can’t change, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a bit of fun with your public image.”

“Why not we get Aranea?” Prompto suddenly said.

Three sets of eyes locked on to him.

“Aranea Highwind,” he went on insistently. “You’ve met her, Noct. She was at that fishing tournament over at Vesperpool a coupla years back. She won that Hotshot Digital Award for her romantic short film on Insomnia.”

“The which one now?”

“Y’know the one where she got a bunch of classical dancers performing on the streets while kissing each other? That film was a PR piece which sold Insomnia as a city of love and discovery. Tourism skyrocketed after it went viral.”

“Ooh, yes...I remember that!” trilled Iris excitedly. _“Totally_ gorgeous...especially that part at the train station!”

“And that wasn’t the only awesome thing she did. One time she brought an entire camera crew all the way up to Rock of Ravatogh to shoot a music video. There was this lava spill which happened while they were filming...and yet she kept on at it. That made Mutant Chocobo famous, and-”

“Mutant...Chocobo?” interjected Ignis, voice dripping with confusion and disdain.

“Yeah...killer industrial rock band whom nobody noticed until she stepped in and did her magic. You want fresh? You want gutsy, shit-your-pants filmmaking? Then call her.”

“I believe we could dispense with overly avant-garde concepts. We still need to maintain a certain gravitas befitting a royal function.”

“Oh, she’s done other stuff too. I saw a featurette about daemon infection directed by her. And then Hope Foundation - the NGO chaired by Lady Lunafreya, I’d like to add - commissioned Aranea to come up with a video asking for donations for a new paediatrics ward. My point is, she’s got a diverse portfolio, a great eye for style, and she’s no wet behind the ears director. 50 million eyeballs on your wedding, Noct. Wouldn’t hurt to stretch an extra budget to get the best of the best.”

“And I suppose that ‘extra budget’ is going to come straight from your pocket, Prompto?”

“Hey, it’s just a suggestion. Noct _did_ ask for someone else.”

“You're suggesting someone who hasn’t been active for two years. For all we know, she might’ve already retired.”

“Ooh...been checking out her website, have we?” Prompto said slyly. “Say, didn’t you and her once-”

“I’m only asking that we consider the possibility that she may have retired for real.”

“Retire? When she’s at the top of her game? C’mon...something terrible must've happened if that were true.”

“I remember her now,” Noctis suddenly said triumphantly. He held up his phone to show her publicity photo. “Back then she just came over and started chatting me up. Said that she’s shooting the event, and she needed vox pops for filler material.”

“Yeah!” said Prompto. “Iggy’s got a huge crush on her and was so heartbroken when he found out she’s married, haha!”

Iris gasped. “How come I’ve never heard of this?”

“It wasn’t a crush. Merely...a professional fascination,” said Ignis rather stiffly.

“Get her,” said Noctis. “Setup a meeting. See if we could bounce some ideas that’d stick.”

“Very well, Noct. I shall see to it right away.”

“Alrightey-o!” said Prompto. “It just so happens that I know where her office is.”

* * *

 

Ignis scowled at the ostentatious signboard boldly proclaiming ‘Izunia Productions’. It was replete with a stylized coat-of-arms, flanked by a panther and a bird, along with a scroll at the bottom bearing the slogan.

 _Mundus vult decipi_ \- The world wants to be deceived. How very fitting for the couple who runs this company. He honestly doubted anyone ever bothered finding out what the slogan really meant.

He stared at the bird for far longer than necessary, and only when Prompto tapped him in the shoulder that he was dragged back to the present.

They reached the double glass doors leading into the office. It was wide open, but there was no one manning the receptionist area.

“Helloooooo….!” Prompto tentatively called out.

There wasn’t a single person in sight. A small fountain burbling in the corner was the only movement in what seemed like a deserted office.

“Do you suppose they’ve moved out?” Ignis ventured.

“If they did, they would’ve mentioned it in their website.”

“Well, did they mention that they’ve fired their entire staff too? Because it seems to me as if they’ve done just that.”

“If you pricks are here for more stuff, then do me a favour and take that signboard out front. There’s nothing left in here for you. Oh...except for this…”

Ignis and Prompto stared at each other. It was a female voice who spoke. As one man, they turned towards the receptionist desk, where a lone hand peeked out over the top, middle finger raised up high in the universal salute of telling people to just bugger themselves.

“We are here on behalf of King Noctis Caelum,” said Ignis. “We’d like to speak to Aranea Izunia.”

The hand had disappeared back into its temporary refuge. “Hah! She’s not here.”

“Where can we find her, then?”

The swivel chair behind the desk slid sideways across the floor as if it had been kicked, hitting the far wall with a loud clatter. There was some form of shuffling going on, before a head popped up, blinking blearily at them both. The rest of the body followed as it slowly unfolded itself up. Its hair was done up in a messy bun, but there’s no mistaking that distinct shade of ashen blonde.

“You can talk to Aranea Highwind instead,” she said. “That’s me.”

“Aranea? It’s Prompto. We spoke before, through emails. And you met us during the-”

“Vesperpool fishing tournament, yeah,” Aranea said. “I remember you guys. Hard to forget a cute prince zipping around Eos in a souped-up hot rod with his gaggle of handmaidens.”

As she moved closer towards them, Ignis could see her eyes were puffy, as if she’d just been crying.

She reached Prompto and hugged him, catching the younger man completely off guard. He shot a perplexed look at Ignis, one hand hesitantly creeping up to pat her in the back. She eventually released him.

“And you must be…” she said, turning towards Ignis. She stopped short after recognizing him, staring at him with unveiled surprise.

“Ignis Scientia,” he hastily said. “We’ve met before as well. I was part of Prince Noctis’s entourage.”

She shook his hand. “Yeah, of course I know you.”

“So - uh, what happened here?” asked Prompto. “I thought you’ve got a whole crew working for you.”

She rolled her eyes. _“Used to._ That question warrants a proper sit down. Why don’t you two park yourselves somewhere and gimme a minute to refresh myself?”

* * *

 

Fifteen minutes later, the three of them were seated on the floor of the meeting room, now stripped of its furniture save for the whiteboard and curtains. They were sipping on bottled water and eating cheese biscuits because it was the only thing Aranea could get out of the vending machine.

“Ardyn happened, that’s what,” she said. “He defaulted the loan payment and the bank came to seize everything that’s not nailed down. Funny thing is, he got away scot-free, while I’m the one in trouble. Because I’m the guarantor.”

“But how could you agree to such a thing?” Ignis asked. “Surely you should know the risks involved.”

“Yeah, lesson learned...right? Never agree to sign those loan papers with your no-good weasel of a now ex-husband.”

“Ex?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling wryly. “Thing is, when I started this company, I was idealistic but broke. Ardyn came along, offered to invest, took a chunk of the shares, while leaving me to take care of the chief operations. But then early last year he started taking over the driver’s seat...despite the fact that he knows next to nothing about this business. So of course he ran it to the ground, staff and clients bailed, then eventually the bank people came along…”

She trailed off, chewing on her lower lip. “I put up a fight, naturally,” she said. “I mean, I had to watch something I built from the ground up...with my blood, sweat and tears...being destroyed bit by bit. So of _course_ I had to say something. But he waved those agreement papers and told me to take it to court if I wanted to contest it. Then he hit me with another set of papers...goddamn sonofabitch…”

Prompto flinched. “Sorry, you said ‘hit’, and I thought that he actually hit you...y’know, physically.”

“And lose his chance at getting a clean break with his assets intact? If he did, it’ll become a police case and he’ll be forced to pay for a bigger divorce settlement. No. He’s way smarter than that. As it were, he kicked me out of the house and declared me _persona non grata_ . Me! What kind of messed-up jerkweed does that?!” Her expression changed as she realized something. “Oh. _Him._ And to make matters worse, he took off to Gralea with Julian.”

A long pause, as Ignis and Prompto waited for her to explain who the hell Julian was.

“And what is that? Your pet dog?” Ignis asked.

She shot him a look of irritation. “No, you idiot. My son!” she said indignantly.

“Son?” he said, the word tasting like ashes in his mouth. As if it wasn’t bad enough to have one Ardyn Izunia in this world...now there’s two.

“I didn’t know you’ve got a kid!” Prompto exclaimed. “Is that...is that why you haven’t done a lot of work lately?”

“Between trying to keep my company afloat and raising him, I can’t do much else. I could’ve brought in another investor to bail us out, but we were already in the red by the time I realized that.”

“I apologize for calling upon you at such an inopportune moment,” said Ignis. “Had we known that-”

“That I’m broke, homeless and all-around screwed over?” she said. “Can’t get anymore worse than this, right? Look, enough talking about my problems. This is obviously not a social call. What does His Royal Highness want?”

Ignis hesitated, still clearly perturbed by the poor timing.

“Is it a new job or what? Look, in case it still hasn’t sunk in to you both, I need the money. Like, _really_ need it. D’you have any idea how much a good lawyer costs these days? So lay it all out to me, fellas.”

“It’s his pre-wedding documentary. He needs someone to produce it. The plan is to broadcast it over the weeks leading to the actual event itself.”

“Hm...interesting. So build up hype, drum up interest and anticipation,” Aranea said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I can just see it now: snippets, interviews and blooper reels. Ooh, the audience are just gonna eat it up! And the final climactic reveal on the wedding day.”

“The thing is, Noct very specifically wants a fresh, contemporary style. He wishes to do away with the traditional look his father used to hold in such regard.”

“Of _course_ he does! Just look at his target audience! They’re not the Times New Roman generation. Nobody uses Times New Roman anymore...except for lawyers and dead people.”

Ignis said nothing. He was actually rather fond of Times New Roman, and uses it on his reports all the time.

“So...you’ll do it, then?” asked Prompto.

“Heck, yeah. Best way to forget your troubles is to keep yourself busy. I’ll come up with some concepts straight away.”

“Excellent,” said Ignis. “Shall I tell him to expect you at the Citadel tomorrow afternoon, then? Say...2pm?”

“Done and done.”

They left her packing up her things and made their way back to the car. Prompto suddenly stopped. “Whoa, wait. So what the heck was that just now?”

“What was what?” Ignis said.

“She’s all super friendly with me, but when it comes to you, she acts like you’re a complete stranger.”

“I tend to have that effect on people, in case you haven’t noticed.”  

“Yeah, but-”

“We’re losing daylight, Prompto. Unless if you prefer to walk all the way home, better hop to it now.”

* * *

 

Aranea sighed as she studied the budget calculation she’d made. Lawyer fees had already eaten up a substantial amount of her life savings. Add in taxes, loans and living expenses to that mix, she was really in dire financial straits. Noctis couldn’t have dropped on her lap at a more opportune moment. With this job of his, she was hoping to make enough to at least keep the debt collectors at bay. If she played her cards right, she might even be able to fleece off something extra to get another attorney. A better one this time.

She leaned back in her chair, watching the ceiling fan spin languorously. There was a water stain spreading in one corner, and if she tilted her head and squinted her eyes, she could just make out the shape of a duck...or maybe it’s more of a lopsided butt.

She caught sight of her own reflection in the vanity mirror. The overhead light painted her with unflattering shadows, making her look sallow and withdrawn. What a sight she must’ve been just now - especially in front of Ignis. It had been a real kick in the head seeing him again. They’d parted on bad terms last time, and she’d honestly thought that he was gone forever. The irony was that they’d both gone full circle right at the point where she was hitting bedrock.

The alleyway behind the motel was empty when she checked. She lugged her suitcase out through the window, wincing at the effort. She took one last look around the room before grabbing her slingbag and then easing her way out. Her feet touched the ground, and she started walking.

She’d purposely left her car a little way away in order to avoid being seen by the front desk manager. She’ll lose her deposit by doing it this way, but at least it’ll be cheaper than paying for the full duration of her stay. As she hurried across the parking lot, she passed by a group of teenagers sharing a joint. None of them paid her any attention. A lone woman scurrying away from a motel at 4 in the morning warrants no explanation at all...at least for those who didn’t care.

She started her car. It’ll be a two hour drive from here to the Citadel. She’ll have enough time to find another place to crash, doze off for a bit, and then start work.  

Traffic at the freeway was sparse. She overtook an oil tanker before settling in at a comfortable speed. The stereo was warbling a song she didn’t know nor care to find out - she’d only turned it on to keep her company. There was a message from Prompto she'd yet to reply to:

_It’s gonna be awesome working with you! ^_^_

Sweet, sweet Prompto. Ever since their first meeting, he’d been begging her for tips - how to get the best framing, what camera she liked to use, who was her favourite director...

She’d tried to answer them the best she could, but gradually over the years their correspondence tapered off, until last year he sent her a PM enquiring about her new work. She didn't answer back then, but she will now.

_We’ll hang out once I’m in the city. Take me to all the good spots, ya hear me?_

As she typed her reply, she idly thought of the disapproving look Ignis would give. Texting while driving. Definitely a cardinal sin in his books. He had an aversion towards bending the rules unnecessarily, and she liked that about him. A man who made his values clear meant that you knew where you stood with him.

She tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat, just when the radio announced a song called ‘Lonely Traveler’.

“Hah, just like me,” she muttered, speeding up a bit as she passed the road signage saying _Insomnia 90km._

* * *

**Next episode: Trust Ardyn to spoil everything...  
**


	2. Do or Do Not. There is No Try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still no love lost between Niflheim and Lucis. Does this mean that Aranea and Iggy were never meant to be?

Aranea had to laugh at the increased security, simply because her papers had stated that she was from the Empire. Her bag had undergone a stringent check, as was her person. Short of strip searching her, the female officer very meticulously patted her down after running a body scanner around her - twice. After all that, she still had to walk through the metal detector.

This entire process had caused a buildup at the security post, compounded by a group of school children on a tour around the Citadel. They stared at her owlishly while the officer inquired her of her intentions of visiting, despite her already mentioning it twice. Apparently they didn’t believe that she was there under royal invitation. They were about to confiscate her laptop when she uttered the magic words ‘Ignis Scientia’. It was then they scrambled to call him. Funny how his name invoked far more terror than the king himself.

Presently he came down at the lobby to collect her.

“My sincerest apologies,” he said. “I should have informed them to just let you through.”

“Nice to know that there’s still no love lost between our countries,” she said.

“A regrettable situation indeed.”

“I’ve been living and working in Lucis for more than a decade. Hell, I’m pretty sure I can even sing your national anthem. And yet I’m still an outsider because of my papers.”

“Perhaps you might consider changing nationalities, then.”

“And lose this lovely tension we have between us? No thanks.”

He held the elevator door for her, before entering himself. As they ascended, they both stood in relative silence, with only an upbeat pop music filtering through the speakers underscoring the sharp contrast of atmosphere between them. Aranea furtively studied him sideways. He really hasn’t changed much, save for slightly longer sideburns and a deeper furrow between his brows from overthinking. Eventually she said: “So am I gonna start with the awkward small talk? Okay...how have you been? Have you started any new hobbies yet?”

“I am fine, thank you for asking. And no, I’m afraid my daily duties have not allowed me to pick a new passion. I hope your drive up here was pleasant…?”

“Got caught in downtown traffic just as I exited the highway. Can you believe how crazy it gets at 7am? Otherwise everything was fine.”

“I see.” His phone pinged, prompting him to take it out. He started tapping out a message.

“Busy, busy, busy, huh?”

“No rest for the wicked.”

“Bet you can do that in your sleep.”

“No, when I sleep, I do precisely that: sleep.” The elevator pinged. “After you.”

“Still with no sense of humour,” she muttered.

They’d exited into a hallway lined with guards.

“Aw, how sweet. Are they for me?” she said, indicating them.

“No, they’re the 24-hour security detail. Just what exactly do you think they’re there for?”

“After that warm welcome at the lobby, I can only hazard a guess.”  

He opened a door leading to an antechamber, indicating for her to enter.

“Please wait here for a moment. I shall announce you shortly. Would you like some refreshments? Tea, coffee, water?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He nodded, then left.

She dropped her bag onto the couch, already detesting the stuffy decor and lavender-smelling bowl of potpourri. No wonder Noctis is trying to be progressive with his administration. She slowly made a circuit around the room, taking note of the ceiling camera tucked in one corner, and imagined a team of royal guards watching right next door, ready to spring into action the minute she does something funny. She studied the paintings on the wall, taking in a particularly tasteful rendition of a woman wearing a kimono when her phone suddenly rang. The ringtone alone was enough to give her pause, clicking her tongue in irritation as she briefly contemplated on letting it just go straight to voicemail.

“Ardyn.”

His oily voice snaked through the speaker, enough to make her skin crawl. _“So good to hear your voice again, my dear! How is it...wherever you are right now? I trust you’ve received my flowers…?”_

“I threw ‘em in the trash. What else do you want from me?”

_“Now, now...I understand that in light of the...regrettable things that has happened in the past, you may still feel a certain amount of animosity and bitterness towards me-”_

“Spare me the bullshit. What do you want?”

 _“It’s about Julian, I’m afraid. Ever since he got here, he simply wouldn’t stop...hm, what is that word I’m looking for? Ah,_ moping! _Really, he’s been acting like a lovesick Romeo...all weepy and asking for you 24/7. Is there no way to remedy this, my dear?”_

“You’ve only seen him for a total of ten minutes out of his entire life! So of _course_ he wouldn’t feel comfortable with you. Whatever form of interaction there ever were between you two are the insults and belittlement you’ve given him. He’s broken, and _now_ you want to complain? Not a chance!”

_“Broken. Yes...that’s the exact word I was looking for. Broken. Just like his mother.”_

_“Don’t_ you dare-” she snarled, and realized that she’d started shouting. Adjusting her volume, she went on: “Let me talk to him. I’m at least allowed to do that, right?”

There was derisive laughter coming from Ardyn’s end. A brief exchange of people talking somewhere far off, then- _“Mom?”_

“Julian!” she said, flooded with relief at hearing her son’s voice. “Are you alright? How’s things over there?”

A sniffle. _“I don’t feel good, mom. I-I’ve a temperature, and my head hurts. Just now they tried to give me medicine, but I...couldn’t take it.”_

Aranea closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath in a spirited attempt to calm herself down. She was now utterly convinced that nobody in the entire damned capital of Gralea knew how to properly take care of a six-year-old boy. Julian had a notoriously difficult time taking his medication. She had to spend an entire hour coaxing him to take tiny sips interspersed by copious amounts of water and snuggles with his stuffed toy owl. If she was lucky, he’d finish the entire dosage. If she wasn’t, he’d vomit out the whole lot.

_“I don’t like it here. When are you coming to get me?”_

“I can’t right now. I need to do some stuff first. Stuff that are so important that it’ll help me see you sooner. You gotta be strong for me, alright? Can you do that, champ? If you ever miss me, hug your owl real tight and he’ll...he’ll send me a message.”

_“Owl’s just a toy, mom.”_

She laughed. “Yeah, I know that. I love you.”

Silence.

“Julian?”

_“Oh, I do so miss you, Aranea. You have such fire, such spirit that lights up an entire city. You delight me in ways that no one else can. Why don’t we just forget this whole nasty business of separation and just be together again?”_

“You listen to me: I am going to find a way to get Julian back, and you will _never_ see or hear from him ever again. And for goodness sake get some suppositories for him! If you don’t know what it is or how to use it, then bring up the damned search engine! Just for once in your life do something useful and take care of our son!”  

 _“Hmm, yes. I suppose it’s high time I play the role of good Papa. But then again, we both know that he is not exactly_ our _son.”_

A sharp intake of breath. Ardyn had hit her right below the belt.

_“Right, Aranea?”_

The line died.

She fought the urge to throw her phone away. Instead she stared hard at its lock screen wallpaper, at the picture of a boy with ash blonde hair and solemn green eyes.

Someone cleared their throat. She turned around, to find Ignis standing at the door.

“They’re ready for you,” he said.

Numbly, she gathered her things and followed him back out into the main hallway. He brought her through another door, which lead to a rooftop garden. She barely spared a glance at the blooming lilies and azaleas, nor the breathtaking bower festooned with creeping morning glories. She didn’t revel in the presence of butterflies flitting between the bushes, nor the fountained koi pond tinkling merrily at the centre. She was fixated on the back of Ignis’s head, although her mind was miles away...way way away to Gralea.

Noctis and Lunafreya were enjoying a spot of early afternoon tea beneath the gazebo. They both stood up upon seeing her.

“Aranea, it is _so_ good to see you again,” Lunafreya said happily, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Glad that you could join us,” said Noctis, shaking her hand. “Really excited to get this thing started.”

“Please, have a seat. Would you care for some tea?”

Aranea didn’t answer. She merely stared blearily at them as if she’d suddenly been struck dumb.

“Aranea?”

A wave of despair and desolation suddenly overwhelmed her.

Finding her voice, she said: “I-I’m sorry, you guys. I can’t...I can’t do this right now.”

She turned tail and walked away from them.

She reached the koi pond, standing there because she’s no longer sure where the exit was. This was her life now: an endless maze of tunnels with no light in sight. All she wanted, at that moment, was to just curl herself up in a corner and feel utterly miserable about herself.

“Aranea.”

“Leave me alone.”

Ignis hesitated. Choosing his words very carefully, he said: “Noctis has been made...aware of your predicament, and he would very much like to help. At the behest of Lady Lunafreya, I have made arrangements for a lawyer to represent you. He is the best I’ve seen, and he will see to it that you are reunited with your son.”

He waited for her response. She gave none.

“I can’t help but overhear the conversation you had just now,” he went on. “I am very sorry that Ardyn has put you in this situation. But you must know that there’s still a way. If you are worried about the cost-”  

“A lifetime of servitude from me. Is that the cost of His Majesty’s generosity?” she said bitterly. _“Quid pro quo.”_

Something for something. Nothing’s ever free.

“It would really mean a lot to them to have someone of your talent and calibre on board this project of theirs. Lady Lunafreya speaks very highly of you. I’m sure you are already aware of this, but this is a very important moment to them, and they want everything to be perfect. You, Aranea, can bring that perfection.”

She snickered. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the only director in town.”

“Precisely. But they’re not the ones who are here now...are they?”

She urged herself to look at him.

“Do you hate me, Ignis?”

He seemed taken aback by her question. He quickly regained his composure, however, and stated: “No. No, I don’t.”

“I-I really can’t do this right now. There’s just too many things to worry about-”

“You can still walk away, Aranea. No obligations are imposed upon you just by coming here. But please consider this: without Lady Lunafreya’s help, how soon do you think you’d be able to see your son? Ardyn’s a resourceful man, and he will find ways to foil you. I think, at this stage, it wouldn’t hurt to have a powerful ally by your side. I can assure you that she will do everything she can to help you.”

“Help. Hah. All I ever did was one video.”

“Her organisation means a lot to her. It means a lot to the public. Her campaign was a success thanks to your work. She’s impressed by your outlook, and she’d always admired a woman holding her own in a man’s world. She’d even expressed interest in meeting your son someday. Do you need further convincing? Because if you do, I can most certainly bring you back to her and have her repeat those words.”

She sighed. She hated him, dammit. He disseminates information and ponder them over inside that patient, _stupid_ head of his, and then comes up with the most convincing and logical arguments. He was right. He always was...and that will keep on bothering her.

“Fine,” she said. “Take me back to them.”

* * *

 

Whatever perk up energy Ignis’s pep talk had given her faded the instant she left the Citadel. She’d been propped up by matchsticks, and now they’ve snapped. She found herself meandering about the streets, familiarizing herself with common landmarks, and before she knew it, two hours had gone past. Times like these, she’s going to need the old crew back. So she dialled Biggs’ number.

_“Oi, Lady A! Good to hear from you again! How’s tricks?”_

“Up in shit creek without a paddle at the moment. Listen: you still in Lucis? Is Wedge with you?”

_“Yeah. And yeah. Been doing some odd jobs here and there, but nuthin’ much. Why?”_

“I’m onto something big here. Like royal big. Could use the help. You both in?”

_“Hell yeah. Text us the address and we’ll come right over.”_

“Crown City.”

_“Oof, that’s gonna take at least a day’s drive…”_

“Doesn't matter. Just get here.”

_“Righto, Lady A.”_

Hanging up, her stomach gave a growl, reminding her that it’s almost dinnertime. Stopping by at a grocery store, she began to stock up on provisions. It wasn’t until she was about to pay up, though, that a new set of problems arose.

She had little cash and her banking account was in the range of double digits. Her credit card’s maxed out, but she _did_ have a Niflheim-issued debit card she could still use.

Or so she thought.

The clerk rejected her card outright. “I’m sorry, ma’am...but this card can’t be used here.”

“What? Why? This one’s got money. I just checked yesterday.”

“Money isn’t the issue, ma’am,” drawled the clerk, who was a bubblegum-chewing teenager. “But transactions using Niflheim-issued cards isn’t permissible here due to system restrictions.”

“Restrictions my ass! Gils are still gils. Call your manager and he’ll get it sorted out.”

“I _am_ the manager, ma’am.”

“You?” Shocked, she looked at him up and down. Sure enough, he had a ‘Manager’ tag pinned above his nametag. What, do they start hiring babies these days?

“Do I look like a bank teller to you?” he sneered. “I can’t do magic. I can’t tell the machine to just accept Niflheim cards. It’s very discerning, and it’s saying: ‘Don’t just slide everything inside of me.’”

“Yeah, I bet your _boyfriend_ say that to you all the time,” said Aranea, temper flaring. Already there was a queue buildup behind her since this was the only cashier currently open. “Look why can’t you make an exception-”

“Lady, unless if you can convince the king himself to lift the trade embargo with and from Niflheim, then there’s really nothing I can do. Now, please step aside if you’re not buying anything. There are customers waiting.”

“What trade embargo? I just saw a whole shelf of goddamn Phoenix Purple, and that’s an Imperial product!”

“Licensed to be produced and canned right in Lestallum. _Duh.”_

That really was the last straw. Shoving the shopping basket so hard across the counter that the clerk was forced to catch it, Aranea stormed out of the store. At the curb was a placard advertisement cheerfully offering two packs of marinated chicken wings for the price of one. She viciously kicked it aside.

Dammit, she hated just about everything about this city. The people, the atmosphere, the-

“Aranea!”

She turned. “Aw, not you again! What are you...my stalker or something?”

“No,” said Ignis. “I was in the queue when I overheard your rather unfortunate altercation with the cashier. Anyway, you dropped this.”

He held out something. It was her wallet. It must’ve fallen off when she tried to quickly shove it into her bag.

“Be a crying shame if you’d lost it,” he said as she snatched it away. “Oh, and you might find this of some use.”

“Argh, what now?!”

“My debit card. You can temporarily use it until we sort out your own financial arrangement.”

She impassively glanced at the card before looking back up at him. “Great. So what? Does this mean that we’re moving in together now? Wear matching His ‘n’ Hers tees and declare to the world that we’re MFEO?”

Ignis was taken aback. “What? _No!_ I’m merely doing this because...well, it’s the right thing to do. And I haven’t the foggiest idea what MFEO means!”

“Made For Each Other. It’s a cute little colloquialism only people with terminal brain fart would come up with.” She sighed. “Look, you heard what the kid said. Tell Noctis to kick his butt into gear and deal with this whole trade embargo thing.”

“I’m afraid it is not that simple, Aranea.”

“Yeah. Nothing ever is. Well, thanks for your help. _Again._ I’m just gonna walk away until this perpetual feeling of humiliation and unnatural hostility just fades away.”

“One more thing…”

She sighed. “Yes?”

“Allow me to drive you back to wherever you're staying.”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“I mean, it’s only a few blocks away. I can walk...thanks. I’d-I’d rather walk than be stuck in a confined space with you again, because then I’d be making small talk and...I’m all out of small talk right now, so…”

He stared at her. “You are displeased with me.”

“What? No! Not at all. It’s only just…” she glanced back at where her hotel was located. “It’s only a few blocks away.”

* * *

 

Ignis stood, rooted to the spot.

“It’s a love hotel,” he stated.

“Yeah, well...it’s about the only thing I could afford at the moment.”

There was silence as he still tried to process this information. The flashing neon sign up front bathed the street with splashes of garish pink. It said: Bang Bang Hotel.

“It’s really not that bad,” Aranea went on. “I mean, the bed spins...or vibrates, if that’s what you prefer. There’s free condoms, and right now they have a 40% discount on costumes and-”

“I must say that this is completely unexpected.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Anyway, why are you all prudish all of a sudden? You weren’t a gentleman a coupla years back at the motel.”

“Yes, well...that time didn’t quite go so well in the end, did it?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but then thought the better of it. Instead she opted to grab the plastic bag from him. They’d stopped by at an eatery along the way in order to get her dinner.

“Thanks again for everything,” she said curtly. “Careful on your way back.”

* * *

**Next episode: When Iggy and Aranea met...a 2-part throwback series...  
**


	3. We’ll Always Have Vesperpool Pt. 1

_Six years ago..._

I don’t normally do this.

Ignis had come to the conclusion that people often say that to make the person they’re speaking to feel like they’re special enough to be made an exception.

He didn’t notice her when she walked into the bar, nor when she picked a booth in the corner to drink with the two men she’d come in with. He _did_ notice her when she beat Noctis in darts, and then afterwards joined Gladiolus at the snooker table...but only as a spectator. One of her mates - Biggs was his name, had challenged Gladiolus to a friendly one-on-one match.

She’d casually joined Noctis at his table, chatting him up and introducing herself. Her name card said that she was Aranea Highwind, and she was the Chief Operating Officer of Izunia Productions. She mentioned that she was in town for a job, Biggs and Wedge were part of her crew and she was terribly attracted towards Ignis.

Well, that last part only happened afterwards. Ignis was in the men’s room, very much convinced that the person in the stall next to him were having sex - if the rhythmic bumps were of any indication. He stared at the poorly scribbled graffiti on the walls and, taking out a marker pen from his pocket, went on to make a few anatomical and grammatical corrections.

When he exited, Aranea was in the hallway outside, deep in conversation with someone over the phone. The music was making it impossible to hear what she was saying, but judging from her body language, she seemed to be agitated. Her call ended just as he was squeezing past her.

“Hey. Ignis...right?”

He stopped, and turned. “Yes?”

She moved up closer to him. “I think you’re really cute.”

He’d been called many things before, but ‘cute’ wasn’t one of it. “Er. Thank you.”

“I don’t normally do this…”

“But you’re going to?”

She laughed. “Yeah. We should hang out sometime, just you and me. You _can_ ditch your friends and go solo, right? All you boyband types seem to have a hive mind - one goes, the rest follows. It’s a wonder you guys don’t go to the bathroom together to fix your makeup and gossip about your periods.”

He loved how she complimented him in one turn and then insult him at the next. And he also really liked her cat-like eyeliner. He wondered if it was a trend these days. But he was also suspicious. Striking women like her can’t possibly start conversations in bars for altruistic reasons. “I appreciate the invite, but alas I am duty-bound to not leave Prince Noctis’s side for an extended period of time.”

“What...so if he needs his ass wiped then you’d have to do it for him?”

“Not to that extent, thank goodness,” he said with a small laugh. “But there are matters in which he requires assistance only I can provide.”

“Ain’t that a crying shame?” she said wryly. “Well, anytime you change your mind, just let me know.”      

And after that he started to _really_ notice her. Her unabashed frankness, her acerbic sense of humour, the braids in her hair, and how Prompto can’t seem to be able to leave her alone.

She’d excused herself afterwards, with Biggs and Wedge on tow. It was only after she was gone did it occur to Ignis to ask where she was staying.

Later, back at their motel room, Prompto loudly declared that he was in love with Aranea.

The next morning, they’d all met again at the Vesperpool. Scores of people had already arrived for the fishing tournament. There was a hundred thousand gil prize for the biggest and heaviest catch.

Ignis found her fiddling with a camera setup with her assistants. She’d already sent the other half of the crew with Biggs and Wedge to the other side of the lake, hoping to get better shot angles from there.

“Aren’t you supposed to guard His Royal Highness and make sure he's got his pacifier?”

“He’ll be fine for a couple of hours. Besides, Gladio and Prompto are with him.”

“Don’t you think he ever gets tired of having people constantly around him?”

Ignis scuffed the toe of his shoe at the edge of a protruding root. He’d worn his second best pair that day. After a rather unfortunate incident last week, he’d come to realize that the swamplands were notorious for sucking in footwear and leaving its wearer stranded on an island of steaming mud peats.

“Funny you should mention that. He chafes under the attention sometimes. He finds it troublesome,” he said.

“Yeah, I’ll bet. I can totally understand how he feels.”

“Do you now?”

“Oh, yeah. And I can also see how distressing it is for his long-suffering flunky. Are you secretly in love with him or something?”

“What? No!”

“‘Coz it wouldn’t be a problem to me...just so you know. Would’ve explained why you turned me down.”

“That wasn’t the reason. I was merely-”

“Relax, I was just being a jerk,” she said with a laugh. “Being rejected sucks, but we all gotta be grownups about it, yeah?”

“It’s just that we barely know each other.”

“You?” she said laughingly. “You’re the easiest book to read in the room. Well - _second_ easiest. I figured Prompto out in five seconds. You hardly do anything surprising, you have a set of rules you follow religiously, and that makes you unable to connect with people sometimes. And I happen to find your finer qualities amazingly attractive. As for me? I see what I like and I go for it.”

“Ah, much like a bloodhound. Or a magpie, who chases shiny things. Am I another piece of tinsel to add to your collection of baubles?”

“Oh, no. You’d be the crown jewel. My finest discovery ever.”

“Now you sound like a temple robber.”

She laughed. “Hey, look...I’m just someone who’s admiring a masterpiece. No hidden agenda, no strings attached. My offer to hangout still stands. We don’t even have to do anything. We can just talk.”

“Like what we’re doing now.”

She made an expression of mock surprise. It was comical. “Hot _damn,_ so we are! Wouldja look at that?”

He laughed. “Wouldn’t I be bothering you?”

“‘Coz I’m working? Nah, no problem. This job budget is shit, and the client’s a creep. But it’s easy money...so there you go.”

“Do you always cover events such as this?”

“Penis measuring contests do not interest me,” she drawled lazily. “What people should know is it’s not about the size and length.” She shot him an impish look, before saying conspiratorially: “It's what you do with it.”

“Oh, so what do you do with...say, a 20 pound catfish?”

“You gotta be creative, of course. _I’m_ always open for...experimentation,” she smiled, clearly enjoying herself. It was then he realized that she wasn’t talking about fish.

“Ah,” he said rather sheepishly. “Euphemisms tend to fly over my head, I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright. Doesn’t make it any less fun for me to make it. We ready to roll or what?” The last bit was directed towards her assistant.

“Yes, Lady A.”

“Alright, shoo. I need to focus on this one now,” she said to Ignis.

“I shan’t detain you any longer,” he said, bowing slightly.

“Why, look at you, Mr. Courtly Manners. You guys are staying at the motel, right? Which room are you?”

“215.”

“Ooh, I’m only just about five doors away. Maybe I could drop by tonight and hang out. Play a card game or two.”

“Why, yes...I think Noctis would like that very much. And I know that Prompto would be thrilled.”

“And you? How do _you_ feel about it?”

Ignis hesitated. “Just so that we’re both clear...is this an innuendo?”

“No, it’s just an honest question.”

“Then I shall answer honestly. I’ve come to enjoy the pleasure of your company.”

Aranea smiled. “Great! So I’ll see you tonight, then.”

* * *

 

“Hah! Lose it, musclehead.”

Gladiolus groaned in defeat. With an air of resignation, he peeled off his tank top and chucked it to the floor.

Aranea hummed in appreciation at his bare pecs and abs. They were playing strip poker, and so far she was winning. Prompto was already down to his boxers, while Noctis still had his t-shirt and shorts on. The only thing she had lost was her jacket.

Ignis opted not to join them, choosing instead to observe the game.

“Shall we play to see if we can get Prompto naked?” she gleefully asked.

There was a chorus of protests from Noctis and Gladiolus. “Ugh, ew...no!” Noctis exclaimed. “Anything but that.”

“Welp, if you don’t mind, I’ll be off with my winnings while I still can,” she said, scooping up the small pile of gils and a limited edition golden chocobo keychain wagered by Prompto because he had no money left. “G’nite, boys.”

Ignis waited a few seconds after she’d left before he too exited the room.

At the hallway outside, he called after her. “Aranea, hold up.”

“Yeah?”

“I know you cheated.”

She smirked, but kept on walking. “How’d you know that? Been watching me, have you?”

“Maybe I have.” He jogged forth, overtaking her and planting himself right in her path, effectively stopping her in her tracks.

“Been doing a lot of me watching lately. Got something you wanna say?”

“I think you’re the most striking woman I’ve ever met, and it’d be a crying shame not to tell you that the first chance I’ve got.”

“Wow, that’s the most generic thing I’ve ever heard. Substitute ‘striking’ with another adjective and you’ll get the most clichéd-”

“I’m not done talking.”

Stepping into her personal space, he began to hedge her backwards. “I also think that you’re crafty and conniving, someone who gives in to cheating at card games in order to fleece people off their money.” Her back was by now pressed against the wall. He leaned over, placing a palm next to her head and ranging in much closer. She smiled, delighted at this sudden display of boldness. “I notice you’d come up with one card short sometimes. I’m very sure you still have that card from the last round.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you search me, then?”

His other hand touched her hip, fingers slowly travelling up to her waist. They slipped beneath the hem of her singlet, splaying over her back.

“My my, I didn’t think you had it in you, Scientia.”

He tugged her closer towards him-

“A- _hah,”_ he said triumphantly, extracting the card wedged within the band of her jeans, still warm from her body heat. He held aloft the incriminating evidence, clipped between his index and middle finger. “The smoking gun, I presume?”

“Oh, no...you’ve caught me,” she said teasingly. “Whatever are you gonna do about it?”

At that moment, Noctis clattered out of the room, carrying the ice bucket. He spotted them both, and screeched to a halt.

“Oh, um…” he cleared his throat. They looked at him. He awkwardly motioned towards the end of the hallway. “Err...getting some ice...yeah.”

With that, he shuffled past them, avoiding their stares.

Once he was gone, Aranea said: “Y’know, I would’ve invited you to my room if Wedge and Biggs aren’t there.”

“You share rooms with them?”

“Yeah. It’s cost saving. Wouldn’t be the first time we did it. They’d take the queen size while I bunk down on a single. After all these years I’ve gotten used to the smell of man funk.”

“Get your own room next time,” he suggested. “Maybe then we could play our own version of strip poker.”

It was by far the cheesiest line he’d ever uttered, and he himself couldn’t believe that he’d actually say it.

But it seemed to achieve the desired effect, for Aranea gave him the most meaningful smile, slipped past his arm, and then left without a single word.

He watched as she entered her room, and then went back to his own. He was fiddling with the lock when Wedge and Biggs bounded up the stairs. Wedge tapped Ignis on the shoulder.

“Alright, mate?”

“Yes, I’m off to bed now.”

“Lady A done playing with you boys yet? Only thing is, she’s to get ready to go back to Vesperpool.”

“What, now? All by herself?”

“Yeah. She’s gotta man the camera.”

“What could she possibly be shooting in the middle of the night?”

“Sunrise timelapse. We told her to get the other boys to handle it, but she insisted on doing it herself.”

Ignis looked back at the direction of her room, frowning thoughtfully to himself.

* * *

 

The fire was banking lowly as Ignis approached the camp. All around him an orchestra of crickets purred, punctuated by the bass boom of frogs in the undergrowth.

He drew himself closer towards the tent. Its front flap suddenly opened and-

“Whoa, easy! It’s only me, Ignis!” he exclaimed, hands raised.

Aranea had come out with a rifle, pointed at his head. She visibly relaxed, lowering the weapon. “Shit, you _could’ve_ called out first. I almost turned you into sahagin shoes!”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware…”

“Well, what d’ya want?” she asked, her voice snappish. She still hasn’t come over her shock.

“I was told that you’d be out here alone, so I thought that you might need the company.”

“Are you bein’ all chivalrous on me now?” she asked suspiciously.

Ignis was nonplussed. “No! Well, yes...but not right now. It’s only that - I mean…” he sighed. “This is a trick question, isn’t it?”

She grinned. “Nothing wrong with chivalry. Just don’t think I need protecting all the time.” She held up the rifle. “I’m perfectly licensed to use this thing. A girl’s gotta find whatever edge she could get to survive.”

“Oh, I get that. Truly, I do.”

“Well, c’mon over. Mind the equipment, though. I’m shooting a timelapse.”

They’d managed to get the campfire going again, and soon enough they were sipping hot cocoa.

“You’re worried about thieves running off with your camera. Is that what the gun is for?”

“I’m not so worried about people out here. It’s the animals. Sometimes they’d come over for food and end up knocking our stuff over. Biggs and Wedge have been at it the whole day, which is why I sent them back and took over.”

There was a splash in the distance, followed by a guttural cry of a sahagin. If Ignis looked carefully, he could see fireflies dancing between the reeds at the edge of the water.

Aranea smacked at a mosquito snacking on her arm, spilling her drink in process. “Damn mozzies,” she grumbled. “That’s about the only thing I hate about this place: the bugs.”

“You sound just like Prompto. He’s infatuated by you...just so you know.”

“Does he now? Well, that’s awfully sweet. He’s just glad to meet someone else from Niflheim.”

Ignis stared at the fire.

“You _do_ know that he’s from there...right?” she asked.

“Yes, of course. But...you…?”

“Makes me wonder how your government feels about having someone like him guarding your prince.”

“Prompto has proven himself worthy of the task time and again. Even the king himself has granted his approval.”

“Well, ain’t that special?” she said with a wry smile. She took note of the question still hanging in the air, and said: “I _was_ from there. Left home maybe...ooh...about twelve years ago. My dad wanted me educated at a good school, but I chose the School of Hard Knocks instead.” She paused, looking thoughtfully in the distance. “Got a PhD on it too. Now I go where the job takes me...and that means spending the night at a bug-infested swamp, chatting with a very good-looking guy who clearly looks like he needs to kick back a bit.”   

“What? I _am_ relaxed!”  

“Sure you are. Maybe after a dozen Mai Tais and some space brownies. Want me to help you relax a bit more?”

“It doesn’t involve a massage, does it? I was always being told that my muscles are too rigid.”

“Nothing wrong with some rigid muscle every now and then.”

Ignis sensed another innuendo, although he can’t quite figure it out...not when Aranea suddenly got to her feet, eyes boring into his as she made her way towards him. She stood before him, the glow from the fire behind her making her look otherworldly and beautiful. She knelt between his legs, fingers pressing against his knees, and stayed that way for a moment...a motion of surrender while she waited for his response.

Raising herself up, she kissed him. Slowly at first, tentatively testing the waters. Then he angled his mouth and deepened the kiss, one hand supporting her head, while the other traced the contours of her neck.   

If this was a poker hand, then he'd definitely gotten himself a Royal Flush. This was an alluring woman, who’d caused him palpitations and many other gentle stirrings on other parts of his body, and she’s readily giving herself to him.

She stood up, fingers still intertwined with his.

“Would you search me again for a hidden ace?”

“Where do you want me to start?” he said.

Smiling, she backed away...turning around to return to the tent.

He took a moment to compose himself, and then followed her inside.

* * *

 

**AN: Poor Iggy. Sexual innuendo isn’t exactly his thing.**

**Next episode: A lover's betrayal...**


	4. We’ll Always Have Vesperpool Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iggy gets his heart broken.

During breakfast, Gladiolus asked: “Where were you last night? Didn’t see you until you crept in at 4am.”

“Oh, there’s some business that needs taken care of,” said Ignis breezily. “Nothing that warrants unnecessary concern.”

“U-huh,” said Gladiolus in skeptical tones. “So you went off for some ‘alone time’...that it?” It was by tacit agreement among the boys that should the urge for tension relief arises (so to speak) they’d quietly slip away to take care of business and no one would raise an eyebrow over it. But Ignis was a different creature altogether. He functions like clockwork, his daily routines were predictable. Which was why when he up and disappears in the middle of the night, Gladiolus got curious. At the very least, Ignis would‘ve left a written note beforehand. He’d considered it polite to do so.

“I suppose you could say that, yes,” said Ignis, smiling like a Sphinx.

“What didja do? Blow off a week’s worth of load over a stack of Bunny Playmates?”

“Do you really need to know the details?”

“No, no…” Gladiolus said hurriedly. “Forget I ever asked.”

Ignis didn’t see Aranea that day. She’d shot him a text message saying that she’s editing, and that she’ll see him later.

_Got my own room. Let's have some fun like last night._

He smiled at the last line. He began to plan the rest of the day, first by dropping a bug in Gladiolus’ ear about how they ought to go for drinks at Lestallum later that night - a suggestion the burly man was highly amenable to. Already a record-breaking fish has been caught, and Noctis was increasingly getting discouraged. They sure could use a distraction.

Afterwards, just as they were getting ready to go out, Ignis feigned illness, stating heatstroke as the culprit. He insisted that they went ahead as planned, and assured them that he’ll be fine after some rest.

Once they were gone, he waited a few moments before getting out of bed. It was about half an hour’s drive from there to Lestallum. Coupled by the fact that Gladio will take them to that brand new hotspot, they’d be drinking and people-watching for a good while. Then they’ll be having some late supper before heading on back. In total, he had about four hours tops.

By the time he reached Aranea’s room, he was quivering with anticipation. This was unlike him at all. He was acting like a giddy schoolgirl, given to subterfuge just to see someone he was infatuated with. All these feelings were an unnecessary distraction, but of course he didn’t care about that the moment she opened the door.

She said: “There you are. I was wondering when- _omph!”_

He’d rushed in and kissed her hard, in which she responded with equal ardour. Half of his clothing were already on the floor when they suddenly remembered to shut and lock the door.

* * *

 

“Stop.”

“No.”

He was lightly running his fingers over her bare thigh. Everytime it got too ticklish she’d move her leg, but then he’ll start again.

“You have to go soon.”

“Regrettably so,” Ignis sighed. “But permit me this last moment of pleasure, please.”

“Buddy, we had our moment of pleasure like...well, I lost count,” Aranea said with a laugh.

“They’re not nearly enough,” he murmured. He looked at her, with such intense longing in his eyes, and then kissed her.

“Both of us will be gone by tomorrow,” he said. “When will I see you again?”

“That’s tough to say. We’ve got unpredictable schedules.”

“Where will you be next?”

“Lestallum? Alstor Slough? I dunno. I go wherever the job takes me, remember?”

“I do so wish I could see you everyday.”

“C’mon, you’ll get bored of me.”

“How can I be? How can I, a boring man - your words, not mine - get bored? Now that’s a conundrum.”

“People get bored of each other. That’s how things are.”

“Are you really that much of a cynic?”

“More like a realist.” She suddenly laughed. “You’re probably the _only_ guy who discusses philosophy during pillow talk.”

“Is it not acceptable?”

“Some people find it a turnoff.”

“And you?”

 _“I_ say...you should stop asking and just kiss me again and then get the hell out. Otherwise I’m just gonna hump you one more time.”

“Such a difficult choice. Whatever am I going to do?”  

“Oh, shut up, you.”

She finally managed to kick him off the bed and out of the room. They kissed again at the door, terribly reluctant to let each other go. She whispered something in his ear...a wonderful secret which made him smile and peck her forehead.

By the time the boys got back, Ignis was already fast asleep. Prompto, ever the sweet and thoughtful one, crept over and placed a paper bag - a souvenir from the trip - on the bedside table, right next to his glasses.

None of them noticed that he was still fully dressed beneath the blanket. He pulled out his phone, which he’d hurriedly slipped beneath the pillow. He was in the middle of chatting with her when they came in.

_What’re you doing?_

_In bed. Thinking of you._

_Ugh, go to sleep, you sappy jerk. I’ve work to do! ;) I’m so gonna block you._

He smiled, then quickly typed: _Goodnight, Aranea._

* * *

 

There had been a bazaar running concurrently with the fishing competition. Brightly coloured stalls had sprouted up on the parking lot and also the pathway leading to the lake, touting various wares ranging from food to every kind of souvenir under the sun. Ignis idly walked past them, not particularly interested in buying anything.

“Pardon me,” he said. Someone had stepped back and bumped into him.

The man turned around. There was something vaguely familiar about him. “Oh, clumsy me. It is my fault entirely. Please, do accept my apologies,” he said.

“It’s alright. No harm done.”

The man looked at him appraisingly. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“The Crown City, perhaps? You have that look about you. Oh, forgive me,” he said, tapping his forehead as if he’d remembered something. “Where are my manners? Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ardyn Izunia.” He executed a rather theatrical bow. “At your service.”

Ignis’ eyes widened in surprise. All those hours of poring over business dailies were now coming back to him. “The CEO of Magitek Corp? You’ve invested millions in the research for energy fusion technology, and-”

Ardyn laughed. “Yes, I’m that one. But let’s dispense with the formalities, shall we? Because right now I am not a businessman, but someone in a rather vexing situation. You see...my wife is very angry at me, and I’m trying to earn her forgiveness. Perhaps you might be able to help. Which flower says ‘I am sorry, please forgive me’?”

Ignis looked at the colourful choices ranged before him. “I believe you’re going to need purple hyacinths for that.”

Ardyn looked at him in amazement. “So clever! I _never_ would’ve guessed that.” He turned to the florist and ordered a big bouquet of purple hyacinths.

“What is your name?” he asked, turning back towards Ignis.

“Ignis Scientia.”

“You are an exceptional young man, Ignis...and don’t let other people tell you otherwise. Let me ask you a personal question: do you have someone special in your life?”

Ignis thought of Aranea and smiled.

“Ooh, I assume that as a yes, then,” said Ardyn teasingly. “A blossoming love, I take it...judging from that schoolgirl blush you’re sporting. You lucky devil you.”

“She is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

“Well, you make sure you hold on to her tight and never let go. Give her plenty of reasons to stay. Love and passion...they grow stale over time. Takes a bit of effort to rejuvenate, but...my dear boy, it will be well worth it.”

“Thank you. I shall keep that in mind.”

The florist returned to hand over a beautifully made bouquet to Ardyn. “Now. I’m off to see my lady love. How do I look? Do I seem suitably remorseful?” He stood straight, arms out as if he was getting ready to perform a monologue onstage.

“I think you’re getting there,” said Ignis with a smile.

“Alright. Thank you for your advice again. Wish me luck.”

* * *

 

Noctis won first place. He proudly stood by his catch while reporters took his photo.

Ignis joined the crowd for the round of applause, but then slipped away to look for Aranea. He only had a small window of opportunity to see her, and he was going to capitalize it before they went their separate ways.

He spotted her in some distance, hunched over a tv monitor with a pair of headphones on her head, presumably reviewing the footage of the day. Every now and then she’d pass a comment to her assistant. This was actually the first time he’d seen her being serious while working.

His feet was already propelling him towards her, a smile readily on his lips as he anticipated her reaction when he surprises her.

But another man suddenly stepped into his field of vision - a rather familiar man bearing a bouquet of purple hyacinths, the symbol for deep sorrow and forgiveness. The man crept behind Aranea, pounced upon her waist, and spun her around so fast that the headphones slipped off her head and clattered to the ground.

She seemed very surprised to see him. She started to say something until he suddenly dropped to one knee and presented her the flowers. She took it, albeit in a stunned way as if she wasn’t sure what to do next.

Ardyn stood up and started kissing her, wrapping his arms around her as he kissed her again and again. What made it even more painful to watch was when she kissed him back.

He began to pull her away, probably suggesting that they retired to somewhere more private. She turned to give a final set of orders to her crew before following him.

Ardyn _bloody_ Izunia. Bloody Ardyn bloody _Izunia!_

The penny had dropped, and now the rest of the building has collapsed.

Ignis still stood where he was, watching Aranea until she disappeared from sight.

* * *

 

Prompto was standing all by himself outside the diner, fiddling with his phone. Ignis furtively sidled up to him.

“Yo, ‘sup man,” Prompto said absently. Ignis could hear the electronic _breep breep_ of the game app he’s playing.

“About Aranea…”

“You slept with her.”

A thunderbolt could’ve sprung from the heavens and struck Ignis dead there and then...for his expression said it all.

“Yeah, I kinda figured it out,” said Prompto. “Last night we had to turn back ‘coz I forgot my wallet. When we reached the parking lot, I saw you with Aranea...sucking face. Which was kinda funny, because aren’t you supposed to be, like, _sick?”_ He turned his baby blue eyes towards Ignis, affecting a rather cherubic expression. “So you kinda broke my heart and all that, but I’m now over it. I can still love her like a sister.”

“Yes, yes, that’s fine,” said Ignis hastily. “But is she married?”

“Yep,” said Prompto, emphasizing the ‘p’. “She’s married.”

“What?!” said Ignis, looking extremely flabbergasted. “How can I not know that? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was all over the news,” Prompto shrugged. “Well, not exactly all over. But Entertainment Weekly did a feature about them once.”

Ignis groaned. “Entertainment Weekly. Fantastic. I had to be the only person in the entire continent who does not read Entertainment Bloody Weekly.”  

“So you saw a foxy lady and your pants does all the talking. Happens to the best of us, brah.”

“What’re we talking about here?” Gladiolus had just joined them.

“Ignis had sex with Ardyn Izunia’s wife,” said Prompto helpfully. “Hashtag awkwaaard.”

Gladiolus leaned back and let out a bray of laughter. “So...so…” he tried, chortling uncontrollably. “We’re talking about _the_ Ardyn Izunia, yeah? Hotshot billionaire, Imperial darling, super tight with the Emperor-” he emphasized it by crossing his middle and index finger together. “And you actually banged his _wife?!_ O-ho, Iggy...still waters run deep indeedy. Welp, you’re already a dead man walking, considering that Ardyn’s gonna find out soon enough. Better tell Noctis that he needs to find a new tactical advisor toot sweet.”

“That is not even remotely funny,” Ignis grumbled.

“You really liked her, didn’t you?” said Prompto. “I can see why. She’s actually _super_ nice. I don’t even know how she’d ended up with him. I mean, the stories that I’ve heard about him-”

“I don’t want to hear it.”  

Gladiolus clasped a hand over Ignis’s shoulder. “You did something even I don’t have the guts to do. You’re my hero, man.”

Ignis shrugged him away. Whatever juvenile attempts his friends made to cheer him up fell flat. He didn’t want to be cheered up. He wanted to wallow. He wanted to sit down and do crossword puzzles until the whole world made sense again. Most of all, he just wanted to be alone.

He’d assured himself that he wasn’t one of those neurotic creeps who’d secretly snoop around people’s social media pages just to find out about their personal lives.

And this assurance came later that night while he was still up in bed, poring over pages and pages of Aranea’s photos. There were snapshots of her attending celebrity events, winning awards, working on-set, promotional stills of her current project...there was also a sizeable amount of her chilling out with friends - Wedge and Biggs in particular. They were practically her Siamese twins. But there were also a number of photos showing her and Ardyn. He meticulously studied them, trying to decipher the depths of their marriage by body language alone. She’d seemed relatively happy enough. The most recent photos were uploaded in Altissia, where they’d just spent their wedding anniversary.

Ignis was choking with envy, disappointment, and betrayal. He’d never felt like this towards anyone before. No matter how much he tried to rationalize himself, there’s no denying that he’d fallen for Aranea, and yet she was just about as beautiful and unattainable as the moon. He wondered why she never told him she was married, and another emotion entered the whirlpool of torment already bubbling inside of him: anger. Of all the rare moments that he was truly angry, it was during those times where he had absolutely no control over. Aranea had not only thrown a spanner in the works, but also destroyed it in one fell swoop. He was a wreckage of a jilted man, and all he wanted at that moment was to just see her again and ask for an explanation.  

That one wish was never granted - or so he thought. Years passed and while he had lingering thoughts about her sometimes, his newfound dedication to his job meant that eventually, she was merely a passing whimsy carefully tucked away in a place where dreams were left to die.

* * *

 

**Next episode: Picking up where they left off**


	5. The Elephant in the Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're so different that it seemed impossible for them to be more than what they currently are - two adults skirting an awkward issue.

**AN: Happy birthday, Iggy. You'll always be FFXV Best Man to me. Oh, and your birthday mask is dope AF.  
**

* * *

 

_Present day..._

If there was one thing Aranea was very talented at, it was disrupting other people’s lives...particularly Ignis’s. Subconsciously he knew that, but of course that little bit of information hasn’t kicked in just yet.

Everyday he woke up at precisely 5am. He’d take his blood pressure, do some light exercises, and then take a shower. He’d brush his teeth with an electric toothbrush, and then he shaved...taking extra care to navigate that tricky spot beneath his jawline. Afterwards, he’d go to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. He’d sit, all alone, at his pristine dining table and wonder why it seemed so empty. Perhaps it needed a suitable centrepiece. He made a mental note to go to Home Depot to get something, only to forget about it much later in the day due to the burgeoning list of duties he had to undergo at the office. After taking his daily supplements, he’d take one last look at himself in the mirror, making sure his appearance was immaculate as always. Then, he’d exit his apartment, after checking that the stove and all the lights were off.  

Such was the humdrum of his life.

Today, however, his route to the Citadel had been more congested than usual, so he had to take a shortcut, navigating back alleys and apartment blocks until he exited at the eastern thoroughfare which wasn’t suffering from such heavy traffic.

He’d emerged from the basement parking lot only to be bombarded by a gaggle of schoolchildren at the lobby. They chattered and giggled amongst themselves despite their teacher’s best efforts to keep them in order. Two boys accidentally bumped against him, and whatever joke they were laughing at immediately died when they saw his dour expression. The teacher bowed at him apologetically. He spotted Aranea somewhere in the distance, buying breakfast. She looked really well in a fitted pinstripe suit, and he instantly wondered why he was checking her out. He decided to forgo his usual cup of morning coffee in order to avoid running into her.

But that only served as a forecast of his temperament for the rest of the day, which was irritable and moody. He’d already snapped at two orderlies and made a junior temp cry in the bathroom after berating her over a data error in her report. He found himself staring for far too long outside the window, thinking about Aranea’s hair instead of reviewing the monthly budget calculations.

Bloody hell, he _really_ needed coffee.

So he braved the insipid brew found in the staff pantry and immediately regretted it. As he poured what he could only politely deem as virulent black tar down the sink, he could hear the skittering feet of terrified underlings who beat a hasty exit upon seeing him.

Yes, Ignis Scientia without coffee was far more terrifying than a behemoth tyrant with a toothache and a twisted ankle. 

* * *

There was a rather lovely coffee and snacks bar down at the Citadel lobby. Aranea idly stirred her espresso, engaging in her second favourite pastime: people-watching. Already three batches of school children had walked by with their teachers. She wondered what terribly interesting thing the Citadel had that anyone would care to see. Probably paintings and musty tapestries depicting ancient killing methods, like the one she saw when she was a kid. It was the Niflheim war museum, and they’d proudly displayed all the different techniques of torture that would make an S&M fetishist weep with joy. There was a segment towards the end which featured - strangely enough - badly made taxidermy.  

She took out Ignis’s debit card, studying the gold-embossed name and card number. ‘Platinum Visa’, it said...along with the bank’s logo. Knowing him, he’s probably in the upper echelons of their clientele, the kind where there’s a special private room just for them to do their banking. She turned the card over, looking at the magnetic strip and the 24-hour customer care hotline number, and suddenly realized that she’s acting as if she’d never seen a debit card before.

She’d yet to use the thing for any purchases. Yesterday she pawned off her wedding and engagement ring, and managed to get away with a week’s worth of cash. Living off instant ramen and bottled water really helped in saving money, but she was getting tired of eating the same damn thing for three days straight.

Still, she didn’t use the card because of the awkwardness it entails. She and Ignis were like two tectonic plates suddenly mashed together during a great intercontinental drift, and now they have to get used to being neighbours. He watches her like a cat everytime their hemispheres almost overlapped each other, and she was so determined to stonewall her own feelings towards everyone. Which was a real shame, because despite everything else, they _could_ still be friends. Right?

Right?

Now that she’d really thought about it, they had little in common. He was the golden boy of the royal household, a creature of selective pedigree; while she was a back alley mongrel, who’d fought tooth and nail for every single thing she had. He probably had the next ten years all planned out, while she was merely trying to get by one day at a time. Meeting him and Noctis had given her a glimpse of what it could’ve been for her, and perhaps secretly, she wanted to be a part of their world. Or rather: _Ignis’s_ world. But of course she knew it was a pipe dream before it even began.

Her pitch presentation was supposed to begin soon. Noctis had already liked the idea she’d given during their first meeting, but this time he wanted ‘the rest of the guys’ to know about it too. So, brushing croissant crumbs off her jacket, she made her way to the security checkpoint. She was given a special Visitor pass, so they’d waved her through much faster than the last time.

Fifteen minutes later, she was addressing her shadowy audience in the conference room, presenting a slideshow of concepts, references, along with a detailed plan of action she’d tailored for the job.

“Weddings are _always_ gonna be about the bride. Sorry, Noct. Everyone’s gonna want to know what Lunafreya is wearing, _who_ she’s wearing, who does her hair and makeup, where she goes for her pre-wedding spa session...the works. There won’t be a greater amount of scrutiny on your private lives than this one...well-” she added after a brief consideration, “Apart from once your first kid is born. Which, by the way, you can capitalize on. Sell exclusive first photos of your kid at 1 mill a pop, and then donate it to charity-”

There was a rather disapproving ‘Ahem’ from Ignis.

“Or maybe not,” Aranea capitulated. “I’m just laying out ideas here. Now everyone loves a good climax, so we give them one. For your wedding photoshoot, why not do it at key locations from your road trip years ago? It adds nostalgia, for one thing...a throwback to one of the greatest moments of your life. How come you’ve never released _any_ clips from the trip? I thought Prompto took loads of footage. You still have it...right?”

“Sure do,” said Prompto. “Got it all backed up in three drives.”

Noctis shifted in his seat. “I didn’t think anybody would want to see it,” he said. “Especially in light of my dad’s passing. Then there was that border dispute with Niflheim...well, things went bad when I took over, basically. There really was no need for us to focus on anything else at that time.”

Aranea chose not to comment. Economic sanctions, weapons testing controversy...these were all synonym with Niflheim, a name she’d despised and been trying to disassociate with for a long time.

“Well, this is an auspicious time for you both, so we can have a bit of fun here. Give your people something to cheer about,” she said. “We’ll document the trip in travelogue form. Throw in some catchy music and awesome graphics, the netizens are gonna eat it up.”

Somebody shot an arm up. “Ooh, ooh! Me! Iris Amicita, media officer. I’ve a whole team of designers and editors who can do that. Let us help with the travelogue. And I’m also thinking of featurettes, where we interview Noct and Luna and let them talk about what they feel.”

“That’s a great idea,” said Aranea. “We should meet up later and talk about it some more.” She then went on to propose her idea on tackling social media with their video content.

Ignis felt someone nudge his elbow. Iris had passed him a note. He unfolded the paper and read:

_Is that your ex? She’s hot!_

He pursed his lips and shot a frown at her, shaking his head. Now’s not the time for distractions.

“This travelogue slash photoshoot…” Gladiolus spoke up, “How long d’ya reckon it’s gonna take?”

“I’m gunning for four possible locations: Galdin Quay, the Disc, Lestallum, and - for a bit of fun - Wiz Chocobo Post. So I’d say...five, six days?” said Aranea.

Gladiolus immediately said: “Nuh-uh...no can do. Can you imagine the amount of security detail we have to organize in that five, six days? Plus, Noctis can’t afford to clear his schedule just for this. And the _Disc?_ Seriously? That place is unstable! Look, the idea’s awesome and all...but why can’t we just do the shoot around Insomnia?”

“We don’t have to go all the way up there. We can just find a spot where we can see the meteorite crystal in the background.”

There was a brief silence as everyone digested this.

“Ah, then that is an acceptable compromise,” Ignis eventually said.

“Look, the travelogue is a two-pronged strategy,” said Aranea. “Not only it’s a promotional tool, but it’s a PR tactic too. We show images of Noctis and Luna mingling with the locals, and everyone’s gonna think he’s a man of the people. Someone who’s normal, down-to-earth, and really cares about the grassroots. It’ll help bring in plus points towards his rule, because everybody loves a kind and selfless leader.” She paused, then added: “If anything else, it might help in gaining public support for the fight against the evil Imperialist scum.”

There was a ripple of laughter going around the table. Aranea smiled. That’s right, inject a little bit of self-depreciating humour, make them laugh and that’ll build rapport.

Lunafreya spoke next: “This could coincide with my next tour.”

“Tour?” said Aranea.

“As part of my duties, I’m to travel to areas where my healing is needed. We could make it an official Royal tour and do the shoot at the same time. Noctis can finally see me as I work. Come now, you’ve always said that you’re curious about what I do,” Lunafreya said, nudging her fiancé.

“Yeah, but...y’know...I didn’t expect you to remember that,” Noctis muttered. He caught sight the look she was giving him and subsided. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it. We’ll do it. I’m sure Iggy can manage something. Which is why he’ll be working with Aranea on this.”

“What?” said Ignis.

“What?” said Aranea.

“Who-hoo!” said Prompto.

“I actually like the concept,” Noctis went on. “I say we roll with it and see how it goes.”

* * *

 

Ignis’s office was the ultimate OCD dream. It wouldn't be surprising to find out he’d painstakingly used a measuring tape to align the furnitures perfectly. Everything was so well-organized, like a picture out of a catalogue. It was a place where naughty dust bunnies were warned about...of what would happen if they were to venture there all by their lonesome.

Aranea fidgeted on the uncomfortable sofa for the hundredth time, waiting for him to finish the backlog of reports on his desk. The only thing breaking the tomb-like silence of the room was the _tick tock_ of the clock hanging on the wall.

She experimentally flopped down, stretching out over the length of the sofa, the heels of her boots scuffing the leather surface. She could almost hear Ignis’ eyeball bearing creaking as they swiveled towards her.

“Not exactly a great place for a nap, is it?” she said, wriggling her shoulder blades to get into a more comfy position. “Could’ve at least thrown in a couple of beanbags for a splash of colour.”

“Keep your feet off the furniture, please,” said Ignis.

“Well, are you done yet? Because I’m not good at playing the waiting game. And besides, this place is giving me the heebie-jeebies. It’s like I’m sitting in the headmaster’s office.”

“And I’m sure you’ve seen your fair share of one. Discipline and obedience not your strongest suit?”

“My only suit is Donna Karan,” she said smugly. She bounced out of the sofa and sauntered over to the bookshelves. She inspected the stodgy-looking volumes, each bearing equally dull and depressing titles.

“A Model Discipline: Political Science and the Logic of Representations,” she read out. “The heck?”

“It is a critical study of the methodological approach that dominates modern political science. A rather captivating read, if I may say so myself.”

“Great. So it’s basically mental masturbation.”

“If you choose to put it in such crass terms, then yes...I suppose it is.”

She went over to his desk, running her fingers over the polished surface as she circled around to his side. He’s probably already fretting over the amount of smudged prints she’s leaving behind.

He completely ignored her, choosing instead to focus on the task at hand, which was reading over and signing documents.

“I like your signature,” she commented. “You flourish your ‘g’ and ‘s’. That means you’re bolder and more adventurous than you’d normally let on.”

“What, are you a graphology expert now? It’s rude to read over people’s shoulders.”

“Sorry. I didn’t even know what that thing was…” she muttered, shuffling slightly away from him.

He resumed his work, the soothing _tick tock_ of the clock flowing back in to fill the silence...

Until a hand appeared and shifted his paperweight three inches to the left.

He slowly turned in his seat and gave Aranea his most withering glare. She merely shrugged and mouthed a ‘Sorry’.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, idly watching Ignis’s very boring desktop screensaver when she suddenly shouted: “Oh, my God!”, startling him and causing him to fudge his handwriting.

“Is that _lubricant_ next to your keyboard?” she gasped, eyes wide in shocked fascination. “Watching some smutty porn during office hours, are we?”

“What? What lubricant?” he demanded. “That’s my hand sanitizer!”

“Hyeah, they _always_ say that,” she scoffed, snatching up the bottle and squirting out a small amount onto her palm. Her face fell. “Oh. It _is_ hand sanitizer.”

Ignis huffed. “Fine. _Fine,”_ he said, clearing up his desk. “You have my full attention now. What do you wish to discuss about?”

Aranea gleefully plopped onto the chair across from him, and said: “Well, Mr. Executive Producer...we need to talk about the budget.”

He snickered. “Executive producer?”

“Yeah, you’re the money guy, amiright? That’s what it’s gonna say in the ending credits.”

“Yet another hat for me to wear. I’m starting to lose count.”

“I _know._ Sucks to be a man of many talents, isn’t it? I heard that you’re up for Grand Vizier too, but they tend to be devious assholes who like to twirl their moustaches and cackle for no reason.”

“I look terrible with a moustache.”

“Really?” She squinted and tilted her head sideways as if imagining something. “Meh, probably.”   

“You’re not planning on draining our coffers, I hope?”

“Maybe by half,” she winked. She produced something from her jacket pocket and placed it on the desk, sliding it towards him. He looked down his nose at it.

“And this is…?”

“A love letter,” she said. “No, it’s a quotation of my fee, and the budget needed for a full crew and equipment. There’s a separate attachment for post-production, but since Iris is handling that, then maybe you can just ignore it.”

He unfolded the paper and went through its contents. His face remained unchanged at the amount of her asking price. “Hm. I shall have to discuss this further with Noctis.”

“By all means, go ahead. Oh, and editing fee’s included in my director’s salary. I don’t trust anyone but myself to do it. So it’s 30% upfront before we start anything...it’s all written there. Anything else you’re not clear with?”

“Is there anything else you wish to clarify?”

“Yes. Throughout the shoot, I want my own trailer, a daily supply of pudding, and my own pet coeurl. That’s a standard stipulation I put in all of my contracts.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “A pet coeurl?”

“Uhuh. And Prompto should dress up in fishnet stockings and call himself Gladys.”

“You are pulling my leg...I hope?”

She burst out laughing. “You should _really_ see your face, haahaa!”

“Will that be all?” he asked, with a frosty veneer of politeness only he was capable of conveying.

“Sorry, I was just trying to lighten up the mood.”

“There’s also the other matter of your lodging. I’ve made further arrangements to give you a...shall we say...significant upgrade from your current one. Noctis has consented usage of his personal penthouse suite, of which you are free to use until your work with us is done.”

“Why? I quite like the place I’m staying at right now.”

“Ahem. Lady Lunafreya has expressed some...displeasure with regards to that. We are expected to extend every possible courtesy afforded by us to you.”

“Meaning that you’d have no choice but to be nicer to me from now on,” she said with an irritating half-grin. “Oh, but just so that we’re clear...I don’t do housekeeping. So don’t tell me to clean the place up or anything.”

“I’d expected as much,” Ignis murmured. Then, in a louder voice, added: “That is all, I believe. For now.”

She got up to leave, but then remembered something. “What’s the news on that lawyer you’re getting me?”

“I’ve already sent word. He will contact you as soon as he can.”

When she left his office, she let out an involuntary shudder. Forget about Shiva. Ignis could really make the temperature drop with just one glance.

* * *

 

The elevator door opened with a ping. There was already one person inside. Aranea stepped in, and the doors whispered shut.

“Aranea?”

“No thanks, I don’t want any,” she automatically said.

“It’s Iris. I’d introduced myself during your presentation…?”

Aranea stared at the girl beside her, trying to put the name to the face. Wasn’t she someone’s sister…?

“Oh,” she said. “Yeah...you’re that...person. Sorry about what I said just now. I thought you wanted to sell something.”

“...Inside a lift?”

“They didn’t call it an elevator pitch for nothing.”

Iris laughed. “It’s _so_ nice to finally talk to you! Prompto introduced me to your work, and I think they’re all amazing! Did you really do that DJ Viper video?”

“Uh, yeah. Three of it, actually-”

Iris let out a squeal. “I’m a _huge_ fan. His music is sooo sick! Have you seen him without his helmet on?”

“Yeah, when he was working at his studio-” Another squeal. “But we’re not allowed to talk about that. Are you always this hyper? Can’t imagine myself being like this when I was your age.”

“Sorry, it’s just that I’m so excited to meet you. Hey, I know it’s kinda silly doing this, but...can I take a selfie with you?”

“Uh...sure…”

They both posed, and Iris took the shot.

“Cool!” she said excitedly, fingers busy typing out a message. “My friends are sooo gonna _flip!”_ She suddenly stopped, as if remembering something. “Do you mind if I post it and tag you?”

“Yeah...knock yourself out. Ooh, and mention our upcoming new project. Hashtag Wedding of the Century. That’ll start the ball rolling.”

“I like the way you think already! Hey, you can drop by my department anytime you like. There’s a bunch of people there who admire your work. Aw, speaking of which-” The elevator dinged. “This is me. We should really hang out someday.”

“We definitely should.”

“Oh, and another thing…” said Iris as she stepped out.

“What?”

“Ignis doesn’t realize it yet...but he’s _really_ happy to see you again.”

* * *

 

**Next episode: Truth is the hardest thing.**


	6. A Bohemian’s Lament

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lunafreya and Noctis are having doubts about their upcoming marriage. Aranea and Ignis play the role of agony aunts.

**AN: Lengthy chappie, not sorry. Gotta establish a coupla things first before I move on to the gooey fluffy stuff.**

* * *

 

Aranea had an instant aversion towards scented candles. They were like an abomination upon nature - some synthetic thing trying to be something it is not, and yet the boutique had a stockpile of them. They were burning in almost every corner, polluting the air with a sickly sweet aroma of roses and lilies. Coupled by the sound of windchime instruments playing over the speakers, the staff were clearly trying to evoke the feeling of sparkly elves frolicking in the meadows while farting flower petals.

She sipped her now warm tea, and waited for Lunafreya to emerge from the fitting room. She had to help pick the right outfits for the shoot. Her fingers trailed over layers of silk and lace as she inspected the dresses on the rack, trying to gauge the best colour for each location. Weather forecast had assured them of clear and sunny skies, and she was hoping that Ramuh decides to stay at home and watch sports in the telly instead of rolling into town with his rain and thunder.

“You are not comfortable with my presence,” a sedate voice said.

She glanced up at her companion. Gentiana has been seated just as she was when Aranea arrived - hands folded on her lap, eyes closed but listening and observing entirely everything. There was something unnerving about her, and it wasn’t just how she so much resembled a living doll.

“You don’t eat. Or drink,” said Aranea.

“I do not require sustenance like you do...but I enjoy the occasional dish every now and then.”

“By dish you mean food, right? Not an actual...dish?”

“Yes.”

“Great. So d’you poop and fart and pee too?”

There was a clatter and the curtains parted. Lunafreya stepped out, clad in a splendid mermaid cut gown. She twirled in front of them. “What do you think?” she asked, as two boutique staff materialized and started fussing around with the gown’s train.

“This might actually work for the Disc,” said Aranea. She started circling around Lunafreya, trying to see the dress from various angles. She took a few snapshots for reference purposes.

“I was thinking perhaps a veil-”

“No. No veil,” Aranea automatically said. Then, seeing Lunafreya’s questioning look, she added: “We’ve already got a veil for the last outfit. Why not we put sylleblossoms in your hair for a change? It’s very symbolic, adds a personal touch. We need something to represent your region, anyway.”

Lunafreya laughed. “You’re not very big on veils, are you?”

“What? You can tell?”

“We were fighting over it for a while last time. But then you compromised and we settled on a smaller version.”

“Oh. Yeah, well...I was being biased. Sorry. I just think they’re very….” Aranea trailed off, trying to think of a proper word. She settled with: “Wishy washy.”  

“Really? What did you wear at your wedding, then?”

“Oh, I hated my wedding dress. It wasn’t what I wanted.” Ardyn had somehow talked her into settling with a rather horrendous princess cut Vera Wang, when she actually preferred something much simpler, with no veil. She was no blushing bride, and she was determined not to play that part. “I liked my bouquet, though. When I threw it, it landed on Ravus. He wasn’t happy about it.” She laughed at the memory.

“It’s just that I find it hard, imagining you and Ardyn…” Lunafreya said musingly. Then, suddenly remembering herself, she looked up at Aranea in consternation. “I’m so sorry. I realize it’s something very personal…”

“Can you really imagine me with _anyone?”_ Aranea said with a wry smile. “I’d thought of myself as a free spirit, always jumping here and there. Honestly I find myself asking that same question sometimes. How _did_ we even get together? We started out as business partners, and I guess those long hours and late night meetings followed by drinks afterwards somehow made us both believe that maybe it’s awesome to be husband and wife who happen to work together. What could _possibly_ go wrong, right? Ugh.” She winced.

“Famous last words,” said Lunafreya.

“Hah! Right you are. Believe it or not, the first two years were actually great. But then the emperor became his new BFF and that was it. The beginning of the end. We saw less and less of each other everyday until we eventually became nothing more than glorified housemates.” She paused, chewing on her lower lip. “It’s a terrible day to wake up and realize you don’t know the person you married anymore.”  

“Wow. I...I can’t imagine what’s that like.”

“Don’t. It’s one of the most alienating feeling anyone could possibly have.” Aranea suddenly shuddered, as if she was shaking herself off something unpleasant. “But of course it’s bad luck to talk about these things...especially with your upcoming nuptials,” she said briskly. “Enough with the pity party already. Let’s find the next outfit.”

Lunafreya fingered the fabric of her dress, eyes staring at her reflection in the mirror. “I’m not sure if this is what Noctis wants.”

“What’s there not to like? It’s figure-hugging, it’s beautiful, it’s very va-va-voom. It’s not like I’m putting you in a dominatrix costume. Not that I’d care to know if he’s into that kinda thing,” she muttered the last part.

“No, I don’t mean the dress. I meant the wedding. The whole marriage.”

“Oh.” So it’s the good old case of doubt. Every bride worth their salt would go through the same thing, and they’d usually have a group of rah-rah bridesmaids convincing them that the schmuck they’re marrying is ‘the one’. But Lunafreya had Aranea...and goodness knows that Aranea’s the _worst_ agony aunt there ever was. “What exactly are you not sure of?” she asked, and winced because she knows she’s not going to like the answer.

“I understand my duties completely,” said Lunafreya. “I’m to support Noctis in his endeavours, be his rock during uncertain times. I am to serve the people, provide them comfort and guidance.”

Aranea waited. “That’s it?”

Lunafreya seemed surprised. “Is there something else?”

“What about your duties to yourself? Your needs?”

“My...needs?”

“What do you want?”

Lunafreya thought about it for a while. “Peace,” she finally said. “I wish to live long enough to see a peaceful co-existence between Niflheim and Lucis.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok. That’s something every beauty pageant contestant would want,” said Aranea, secretly doubting that the Emperor would ever be in a sharing mood wherever Lucis was concerned. “Look: if you could do anything you like, right this moment...what would it be? Eat fifty hotdogs? Go skinny dipping? Learn how to rollerskate? What?”

“I suppose I...I’d like to go someplace where no one recognizes me.”

“Wow. Now _that’s_ a tough one.”

“And, I’d want to drive a car.”

“What, you’ve never learned?”

Lunafreya shook her head. “I’ve been chauffeured my entire life.”

“Wow. That’s just... _wow.”_

“I’ve seen lots of people do it. Can’t possibly be that hard now, can it?”

“No, but...you’d still need a license for it.”     

“What about you? What do _you_ want?”

“Right now?” Aranea looked thoughtfully into the distance. “A big chocolate sundae and a live jazz band.”

“Ah,” said Lunafreya with a smile. “A very interesting choice indeed.”

“You still haven’t told me what’s really bothering you.”

Lunafreya turned around and settled down on a chaise lounge. The two shop assistants reappeared, clucking about like chickens as they fussed with her train again, arranging it so that it spilled over the floor rather attractively. Once they were done, they retreated back to whatever corner they’d been hiding.

“Noctis has been rather distant sometimes,” said Lunafreya. “I tried to ask him what’s wrong, but he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Job-related stress, maybe?”

“That’s a given. Well...I know you said that this should be a happy moment for us both. But if anything else, it has made him worry even more. Ignis told me that he’s been having trouble sleeping.” Lunafreya sighed. “What would you do if you were in my shoes?”

“You want the truth?”

“As well as you could give me.”

Aranea took in a deep breath, musing over her answer. Lunafreya was a dream, an aspiration for the common folk. They love her, but they don’t really know her. She exists well beyond this vision of perfection that her minders had crafted for her, and Aranea could see how stifling that could be. She can’t imagine Lunafreya ever kicking back after a royal function, feet on the table and demanding a root beer...because that’s what Aranea would do if she was a princess. But that’s the whole problem right there. In fairytales, girls tend to want to be the princess. Aranea preferred the villain, because there’s always something inherently honest about bad guys.

“I wouldn’t want to _be_ in your shoes,” she eventually said. “For starters, they’re two sizes smaller.” She smiled when that made Lunafreya laugh. “Take him somewhere real quiet... _not_ to make out. But to lay down all your cards. Yours and his. Tell him how you feel and then ask him how _he_ feels. Chances are, he’s not sure about the marriage too...because this whole thing is a gamble. Let him know what’s important to you. Better yet? You two make a list of do’s and don’t’s in your marriage. I know it sounds silly...but _trust_ me: it’s better to be clear about these things sooner rather than later.”  

“Make a list?”

“Yeah. And _you._ You can’t just exist for other people. Stop thinking like that. You’re no good to anyone if you can’t take care of yourself. People’re always assuming they know how to do your job better. Well, don’t let them. You do it your way, and you’ll do it the right way.”  

“But I still don’t know what is the the right way.”

“If you find yourself saying that, then you _do_ know what’s the right way.”

“I don’t know what you mean...but somehow it makes sense.”

“Weird, right? I surprise myself with my own advice sometimes.”

Lunafreya reached out with her hand. Hesitatingly, Aranea took it. They intertwined fingers. “Thank you, Aranea. For lending an ear.”

“Plenty more where that came from. Can’t guarantee you I’d say the right thing, though.”  

Gentiana opened her eyes, watching Lunafreya disappear back into the fitting room. Aranea had once again busied herself with the items on the shelves. She picked up a fedora, and tried it on, looking at herself in the mirror. She tipped the hat down into a more fetching angle, sliding two fingers over the rim as a mocking gesture of a salute. She then whipped the hat off her head and did a rather peculiar bow, almost theatrical in execution, as if everything about her was a show. Then suddenly realizing that she just did something silly, she tossed the hat aside, muttering something along the lines of ‘Stupid dumbass’.

Aranea had struck Gentiana as a somewhat...spiky woman. Beneath that sardonic gaze and sassy smile lies a simmering rage which she’d used to propel herself throughout life and pretty much smash every single obstacle she’d ever come across along the way. It could be easy to dismiss her flightiness as childish, but no one understood the true weight of responsibility better than her. She had the toughness and cynicism of someone who’d seen far too many cruelty and injustices in her life, and had somehow made it a personal vendetta to fight them in her own flippant, sarcastic way. You had to admire a person who stuck it up to bullies and tyrants, even if that person was so coloured by moral ambiguity.

“You’re staring at me again. Did I grow an extra head and not realize it?”

Gentiana smiled that serene smile of hers. Aranea had the notion that the world could go off like hell in a handbasket and that woman would still smile like that. _It’s alright,_ as if she was saying. _Things will sort themselves out._ “You are an anomaly.”

“Yeah?” said Aranea, wondering what the heck she was talking about. “Well, I take that as a compliment. No point in being predictable.”

“Work has kept your mind off your son. You miss him terribly, of course. But fret not. He will speak to you soon.”

Aranea stopped whatever she was doing almost instantly. She’d heard the stories. Citadel underlings tend to blab if you’re friendly enough with them. There’s talk of Gentiana’s clairvoyant powers, of how she was an incarnation of Shiva herself. Aranea had dismissed them as idle gossip at first, until she’d actually met the woman. Her instincts jangled everytime they’re close, and within good reason too. This was someone who can stare into your soul and dredge up uncomfortable bits about yourself. Aranea hated people like that on principle.  

“Okay, I’ll bite. How soon? Next week? Next month?” she said jokingly.

“Today.”  

“Hah! I knew you’re big on dispensing fortune cookie wisdom, but _that_ is batshit crazy.”

“There are no tricks. I speak only the truth.”

“Then why don’t you try offering Lunafreya some advice? Because she’s clearly having second thoughts about this marriage, and frankly...I don’t blame her.”

“How could I? She turned to you for counsel, and you’ve given it. Your words give her comfort. That is more than anyone could ever do for her.” Gentiana smiled that smile of hers. “You have a great many secrets.”

“Hyeah, sure. Who doesn’t?” Aranea grumbled.

“But there is one which I do not think you should keep.”

“And what could that be?”

“The father should know who the boy really is.”

* * *

 

“Okay, so for the grand finale, we’re doing a big concert on the night before the wedding. It’ll be at the Delta Arena - the biggest stadium in the city. There’ll be live artist performances, holographic and pyrotechnic shows, and guest appearances of star cosplayers. We’ll show your final video before revealing Noctis and Lunafreya onstage, where they’ll be thanking everyone for coming and maybe give a short speech. Afterwards there’ll be a fireworks display and then the closing ceremony.”

Aranea looked at the marker scribblings on the whiteboard, interspersed by location stills of the stadium, conceptual art of the event, and photos of the performing artists. There was even a segment titled ‘Merchandise’ where sketches of t-shirt designs, badges and flags were tacked together.

 _“Lux Aeterna,”_ she read out. Eternal light.

“The name of the concert,” said Iris. “What do you think?”

“I like it. Represents many things. Hope, love. Fuzzy blankets.”

Iris beamed. “My team worked really hard around the concept you gave us.”

“Which one? The retro space opera? I was just kidding when I said that.”

“No, the star-crossed lovers one. The idea about two people, sworn to fight but chose to love instead. That’s powerful stuff. Hey, maybe when all of this is done, we could do another feature where we explore positive Lucis-Niflheim relationships. Things like friendship, love and family; how they met, and what they feel about the ongoing war. It could just get the ball rolling towards a ceasefire. You and Ignis could be in it...offer your perspective and all that...”  

Aranea could sense the hungry curiosity beneath the girl’s words and wisely chose not to rise to the bait. “Looks like you’re already doing a great job. You don’t need me here.” She looked around at the assorted faces before her. Iris had enthusiastically introduced her around the office and its staff, but she’d already forgotten most of their names.

“Of course we need you! You saw the people headlining the event?” They’d managed to wrangle some of the most impressive line-ups - opera singers, pop idols, rock bands and visual artists...all performing with the backup of the philharmonic orchestra and military brass band. “We couldn’t get one guy, though...and we really, really need him.”

“Who’s that?”

“DJ Viper.”

“Hah, you mean _you_ need him. Well, good luck with that. He’s all booked up till next year.” She looked again at the faces around her, most particularly Iris. “You want me to call him, do you?” she said flatly.

“Would you pleeeease? His manager said that he’d get back to us, but so far there’s no word.”

“That’s usually a good sign saying that he’s busy.”

“But can’t you do something? You guys are close, right? You’d practically launched his career!”

“Yeah, but...that doesn’t mean we have sleepovers and paint each others’ nails while we gossip about boys.” Besides being a wizard at the turntable, DJ Viper was also a notorious recluse. He rarely gave interviews, and no one knew how he looked like, due to him wearing a stylized robot helmet everytime he performed. His collaborations with top artists and heavy presence on social media alone bolstered his popularity. When Aranea met him, he was nothing more than a shy but brilliant 18-year-old. She was the one who suggested the helmet when he said that he had terrible stage fright.  

“Aranea, pleeasee! Just think of the audience he could pull! We need more eyeballs on your video, and he’s gonna help us with that!”

“Iris, that wheedling might work on your brother, but not me. Besides, isn’t it your job to make sure that people actually _do_ watch our stuff?”

“Of course! That’s what I’m doing. Right now.”

Aranea sighed, realizing that she’d walked right into it. Pulling out her phone, she threw a dirty look at the girl before moving away for some privacy. Oh, she wasn’t fooled. Underneath all that cuteness and enthusiasm lies a manipulative streak, and Aranea wouldn’t be surprised to find out that Iris only got the job because of her father and brother’s connection.  

A moment later, she came back. “I really hope you have the budget, because he’s _not_ cheap. He’s in the middle of a vacation.”

“Does this mean that he’ll do it?” Iris asked breathlessly.

“I only got him to come in and see you. Whether or not he’d do it is up to you.”

Iris squealed and hugged Aranea. _“Thank you!_ Thankyouthankyou! I owe you a favour. A _big_ one. Just name it and I’ll do it.”

“Careful when you say that. ‘Coz I just might.”

“Name it,” Iris repeated firmly.   

“Oh, I will. You’d better be ready when I do. And just so that we’re both clear - if you get into trouble because of this, it won’t get traced back to me; and your brother won’t come swinging at me with that big ass sword of his.”

* * *

 

“Hey, check this out. It only came in this morning,” said Noctis. He went over to his desk and came back with two intricately designed bottles.

“Commemorative fragrances,” he explained as he handed one to Ignis. “Calvin Klein actually came up with limited editions for myself and Luna. Every wedding guest is gonna get a set in their gift bags.”

Ignis unscrewed the cap and took a sniff. “Hm, sylleblossoms. With a hint of...jasmine? And an undernote of citrus. I take it this is Lady Lunafreya’s, then?” He glanced at the delicate cursive script on the bottle: _Solis._

Noctis looked at him in amazement. “Damn, you can actually pick up the different smells? I just thought one perfume smells just like the next.”

“They have unique personalities. Like people. It is only a matter of separating the layers and seeing it as it is.”

“Is there _anything_ that you don’t know, Iggy?”

“Geology, perhaps. And also podiatry.”

“I don’t even know what the hell podiatry _is._ Anyway, so...this is mine.” Noctis’s perfume bottle had a distinct dark blue colour. It bore the royal coat of arms, along with a stylized golden flourish forming the word _Aeternum._ Probably a well-meaning wish for his long and prosperous reign. He spritzed a bit onto Ignis’s inner wrist.

“Smells very you,” Ignis commented. He handed the _Solis_ bottle back to Noctis.

“That’s it? No lengthy dissection of the ingredients?”

“It is a perfume. Not a dish. And besides, I know you well enough to recognize how you’d smell like.”

“Aranea’s gonna get a set too. Well, she’s getting _all_ the other free stuff. As thanks. You think she might like it?”

“I know she will appreciate it. But frankly the light note of sylleblossoms doesn’t suit her. Something dark, mysterious and bold would be more up her alley.”

“Hah. Of course you’d know that,” Noctis said smugly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he said in a tone entirely devoid of innocence. He retreated back to his desk. “So what’s your take on the concert? Iris is particularly excited about it.”

“The budget’s rather...excessive. But I believe the people would appreciate it. Please remember to write your own speech this time. We’d like to hear something that is genuinely King Noctis.”

“Aw, but you write the best speeches, Iggy!” Noctis exclaimed. “Star-crossed lovers. Hah. Kinda funny concept in a way.”

“You do not like it?”

“It’s just...not really me and Luna, right? Our parents didn’t hate each other. I mean, she practically knew me before I got my pubes...and now, she’s marrying me. D’you think she finds it weird?”

“Upon finding out just how much of a lazy slob you really are? Of course. She’ll regret her decision for the rest of her life.”  

“Hey, not funny!” Noctis protested, albeit laughingly. His mirth, though, didn’t last long. He sighed as he looked outside the window. “People are talking about peace. I’m all for it, of course. But...I still can’t help but wonder if I’m making a big mistake.”

“It could take years...centuries, even...for peace to happen. But let it be known that you were the one who took the first step. The king and the Oracle. You can’t possibly think of a more auspicious union than that.”

“Yeah. Just like you and Aranea.”

“I’m afraid things are not as clear cut with her.”

“At least the two of you aren’t trying to kill each other. That’s gotta count as something. Women, huh? They’re so complicated. Like...like black holes...and algebra. Was there really no one else after her?”

“I already have my hands full managing your affairs. I don’t have time for anything else.”

“Well, then. Maybe you _should_ make time. Or do I have to make a royal decree before you’d actually do it?” Noctis tapped his fingers on the desk, eyeing Ignis as he tried to get a read on the man. But Ignis could outstare a cat, and years of dealing with ministers and foreign delegates meant that he’d had far more practice maintaining a neutral composure. Noctis finally gave up. “Did you do that thing I asked you?”

“Yes,” said Ignis, a slight note of relief in his voice after been taken off the petri dish. He took a nondescript brown manila file from the coffee table and handed it over to Noctis.  

“What do we really know about her?”

“Not much. Military personnel data is hard to come by...as you may well understand. My informant had to make discreet enquiries around the area she used to live in. People hardly remember her. Absent father figure...no other family to speak of. Which is probably why she took up with Ardyn in the first place, hoping that he could fill in that vacuum. Man turns out to be a genocidal maniac, unfortunately. However, there’s no evidence showing that she had any prior knowledge nor involvement with his...work.”

“That’s good. But she could still be convicted as an accessory, though. Her company was used as a front for his money laundering.”

“One that she wasn’t aware of. As far as she was concerned, it was a legit business.”

Noctis opened the file. A much younger Aranea stared up at him. Her hair was cropped short, but it was still that unmistakable shade of ash blonde. Papers rustled as he went through her personal details. Every page was stamped with a bright red ‘CLASSIFIED’.

“Top honours student,” said Noctis, impressed. “She would’ve had a stellar military career too, if she hadn’t ended it abruptly. Why’s that?”

“It happened after she witnessed the attempted suicide of a classmate of hers. That information is buried in her psych eval report. But do take note of her real name.”

Aranea Highwind wasn’t born 36 years ago. She was another incarnation she’d crafted for herself in her many attempts to escape her past. Before she was Highwind, before she was even Izunia, she was-

“Ulldor. General Caligo’s her dad?”

“Yes. You may remember him as the man who led the Tenebrae invasion.”

“How can I forget?” Noctis said bitterly. Lunafreya had told him nothing but horror stories of the man. “She's a Chancellor’s ex-wife, whose psychopathic dad had probably taught her 5000 ways to kill a man. You _really_ know how to pick ‘em, Iggy.”

“As I’ve said before: she’s far more complicated than that. And to my defense, I really didn’t know her all that well when we first met. Which I probably should have...considering the circumstances.”

“What’s done is done.” Noctis sighed, flipping the file shut. “You think she’s a spy?”

“Highly unlikely. She hasn’t had a single contact with any of her previous Niflheim acquaintances since she left the capital. It’s as if she’s gone completely dark. Her credit history checks out, so are her digital footprints. If there is indeed any clandestine operation she’s involved in, our agents would’ve picked it up long ago.”

“And that is your professional opinion?”  

“Yes.”

“Hm. Should we lose her tail, then?”

Ignis paused, weighing his answer. “Probably not just yet.”

* * *

Okay. Okay. So how do you tell someone that the love child you’ve been carrying around for nine months is theirs?

Throw a party, perhaps. Or maybe get that person drunk enough and then tell him. Then load up your car and drive as fast as you can to the next state line. It’d get really messed up if Ignis got married someday, had a kid and then that kid decided to marry Julian once they’re older. That’ll make a _super_ awkward family reunion.  

Aranea had already looked, but there was no card that says ‘Kon-Kweh-Tulations! You’re the father!’ at the Hallmark stationery section. Even then, she knew that things like this require a very delicate touch - something that she’s really terrible at.

After her meeting with Iris, she marched down the hallway leading to the elevators when she suddenly spotted Ignis and Wedge somewhere in the distance, headed towards her direction. She made a detour into the ladies’ room, barrelling through the door and almost knocking aside an orderly who was in the middle of opening it.

She heard Wedge calling out “Lady A!” while she muttered a quick apology to the orderly. The door swung shut behind her. She went to the sink, leaning her hands heavily on the edge as she stared at her own mirror reflection.  

She could invite Ignis for dinner, and then tell him. But he might get the wrong impression from the get-go, and frankly, she had no clue how he would react. So probably avoiding public places would be a great idea for now. Barring that, she could also stage a major global catastrophe and just when everything’s about to go kablooey, turn to Ignis and tell him the truth. Provided, of course, if she had the means and plans to pull off the whole thing - which she doesn’t.

What had been her most basic tenet of all time? Tell it as it is. So why is it so hard to tell it as it is now?

Wedge was waiting for her outside when she exited the restroom.

“Something for you,” he said, handing her an envelope. “Took a while to reach you, apparently. Got sent to your old place. Head office finally tracked me down and delivered it to me.”

“Well, lookee here. MTV Music Awards?” she said. “DJ Viper got nominated. No surprise there. So why’d they invite me?”

“Don’t be daft. You’re the director. ‘Course they’d invite you.”

“And here I am without a nice party dress,” she said dryly. “You ready to roll out?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m meeting up with the crew now. Once the equipment’s loaded up, we’ll make a move.”

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Drive safe, ya hear me?”

“Always, Lady A.”

Okay, she’s going to take it as a divine sign. If by some billion-to-one chance that Julian actually called her right now, she’ll tell Ignis the truth right afterwards. Right afterwards. And that’s a promise.

Well...make it a quadrillion-to-one chance.

Her phone suddenly rang.

She almost dropped it in her haste to get it out of her pocket.

It was a video call. From an unknown number. Probably another lothario eager to share penis videos with a call girl who had a similar number with hers. Happened once or twice before. She was seriously considering changing her telco service.

“Hello?” she said.

Julian’s face popped onto the screen, almost making her drop her phone again.

 _“Mom!”_ He beamed. He looked at someone offscreen and said: _“She answered!”_

“Oh, my God. Julian! How are- How did you-?” Aranea was so surprised that she could barely form a coherent sentence. She looked around for somewhere more private to talk. Staff traffic up and down the hallway was making it hard for her to hear his voice.

There was a janitor’s closet nearby. She entered it, squeezing herself into the dank and poky space and shut the door firmly behind her.

_“Mom, you still there?”_

“Yeah, yeah. Just hang on a sec- shit!” She almost tripped over a broom.

_“You said a bad word.”_

“I know. I’m sorry.” She finally settled down on an upturned bucket with a sigh. “Okay. I’ve got a million and one questions for you, kiddo. Can you talk long? Whose number is this anyway?”

_“I can’t. Dad doesn’t even know I’m talking to you right now. I borrowed Edna’s phone."_

“Who?”

_“Edna. My nanny. Dad’s too busy with stuff, so he got her to take care of me. Hey, say hello to my mom.”_

The screen shifted to reveal the face of an elderly woman, who smiled and waved awkwardly at her.

“Hi, hello,” said Aranea. “Thanks for letting him do this.”

The camera moved back to Julian’s face. _“You okay, mom? You look like you haven’t been sleeping much.”_

Aranea scoffed. “Me? What about you? Fever all gone now?”

_“Yeah, ages ago. Edna knows how to give my medicine. I really miss you, mom.”_

“I know, kid. I miss you too. Really wish I could be there with you.”

_“Dad says that he’s sending me off to Gralea Military Academy. Said that it’ll make a man out of me. What is that place? Is it true that you went there when you were younger?”_

Aranea’s smile immediately vanished. Gralea Military Academy was nothing more than a purgatory in her personal history...a black stain she’d been trying to scrub clean for years. She’d fled the Empire precisely because she wanted to get away from its dogmatic tendencies. And now, it’s come back to bite her in the ass. Someone like Julian would never survive past the first three months in that damned place.

_“D’you think I’d be able to make new friends there?”_

“I think you’ll make better friends in Insomnia. That’s where I am right now.”

_“Is it nice there? When can I see you?”_

“Not anytime soon. I know it’s hard to hear-” she added upon seeing his disappointed face. “But it’s really complicated-”

_“How complicated? Is it adult stuff again? I hate being an adult. I don’t ever want to grow up!”_

“Heh, you and me both, kid. You and me both. Listen: I _will_ see you again. I’m gonna try and get you out of that shithole of a place.”

_“You just said a bad word, mom.”_

“I know.”

_“I gotta go now. You won’t tell dad, right? About this? Edna’s gonna get in a lot of trouble if you do.”_

“No, you crazy? Of course I won’t tell. Hey, call me anytime...y’hear me? Just make sure it’s safe before you do that.”

_“Sure thing.”_

“I’m also giving you another number. He’s a...a friend of mine. If you can’t reach me for whatever reason, call him. If you’re ever in any trouble, call him too. He’ll know what to do.”

_“Okay. Love you, mom."_

“Love you too, kiddo.”

The screen went black. Aranea quickly scrolled through her list of contacts and forwarded a number to Edna’s phone. She sat hunched over for a moment, staring at Julian’s picture. The door suddenly swung open, causing her to jump.

Ignis was glaring at her suspiciously. “What on earth are you doing in there?”

“Julian called.”

“What? Really?”    

“Julian called, and he said- ow!” She’d stood up too fast, and banged her head against a low hanging shelf. Bottles of disinfectant and cleaning agents rattled ominously.

“Oh, dear. Mind your step there,” he said, offering a hand. She took it, and carefully maneuvered herself out of the closet. “Are you alright?”

“Pfft, forget about me. He’s fine! He can’t wait to see me and...oh, this is really great!” She was so flooded by happiness and giddy relief that without warning, she hugged him.

His eyes widened in surprise. He felt the weight of her arms around his neck, and the press of her body against his...and yet he couldn’t seem to bring himself to touch her. Suddenly remembering herself, Aranea released him...rather too quickly as if she was electrocuted.

“Sorry,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I just had to tell someone about it.”

“No problem,” he managed. “I’m glad I got that honour.”

Her smile faded and for a moment she seemed pensive. “There’s something that you need to know.”

“What is it?”

“He’s…” she trailed off. Suddenly all form of glibness had chosen to abandon ship. _Tell him. Shit, dammit...just tell him!_

“Aranea, what is it?”

Her biscuit of resolve crumbled at the last second. “He’s really excited to meet you.”

“Meet me? He doesn’t even know me,” he said skeptically.

“I told him about you. About Noctis, Prompto, Gladio...well, everyone. Says he wants to see all of my friends here.”

“Oh. Well, that’s very nice to hear. I hope we get to meet him soon as well.”

“Would you really?”

“Would I really what?”

“See him, I mean.”

“Of _course_ I would. What a silly thing to say,” he chuckled.

“That’s...really awesome,” she said. There was almost an undertone of relief in her voice. “Well, still got a few things to take care of. See ya around, Mr. Executive Producer.”

Much to his bewilderment, she shook his hand. She turned around to march off to the other direction before suddenly remembering something and did a complete U-turn.

“Elevator’s thataways. Heheh,” she said.

“Aranea…”

She stopped. “Hm?”

And he was stumped. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know why he called out to her in the first place. He searched her face for some form of cue, something he could latch onto in order to break out of this embarrassing cloud of awkwardness he was in.

“Er...nothing. I-I’ve forgotten what it was I wanted to say.”

He watched as she trotted away. First a hug, and then a handshake. She really was out of sorts that day. But then again, so was he. It’s almost as if they’d morphed into shojo manga teenagers who’d blush like bumbling idiots everytime they wanted to say something to each other.     

* * *

**Next episode: Aranea finally apologizes to Iggy, and what makes a really good apology gift? Why, a stolen blender, of course.**


	7. The Unsmiling Duke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long overdue apology from Aranea to Ignis...

**AN: Honestly, I don't know what's the currency exchange for gil and real money. Suffice to say that the rate would be 1000 gil = 10 dollars...?**

* * *

Ignis encountered yet another group of schoolchildren touring the Crownsguard training hall. The guide was trying to explain the significance of the breathtaking frescoes adorning the vaulted ceiling when all the children were really interested in was the seven-foot statue of King Clavius the 53rd, riding his infamous black chocobo into battle.

“What’s his name?” asked one of the children, interrupting the guide from a particularly nostalgic monologue about buttresses.

“Ah, so you think King Clavius the 53rd is fascinating?” said the guide.

“No, no...the chocobo. I bet his name is cool.”

“How’d you know it’s a boy?” interjected another child.

“You can’t take a girl chocobo to battle, stupid,” the first child said derisively. “It’s not allowed.”

“Sez who? Who says girls can’t fight? Regina beat you up during recess yesterday!”

“Yeah, well…” the first child now flushed, faced by overwhelming evidence and the collective laughter of the other children. He made a spirited attempt to divert the embarrassment by saying rather loudly: “Well, I think boy chocobos are awesome and I bet this one eats jellybeans. Im’ma ask my dad for a chocobo for my next birthday and you can’t ride him and so there!”

Ignis hid his smile behind a fist. He hurried past them, navigating the stairwell leading to the Finance Department where he was to submit yet another batch of approved invoices from Wedge. Noctis had gone on the shoot and Royal Tour, leaving him behind to oversee administrative matters in the city. He religiously sent daily email updates to the king, and on that day he’d inserted an addendum at the end regarding the preparation of Noctis’s old apartment for Aranea’s stay. For three days he’d went there after work, clearing up the packing boxes and going through a few of them, chuckling over Noctis’s old manga collection and various other paraphernalia.

He hadn’t seen nor spoken to Aranea since that last meeting outside the janitor closet. He mostly dealt with Wedge, who was the production manager. He’d insisted on every single expenses report from the shoot being delivered to him so that he could monitor the budget, and Wedge did just that. And now his desk had a new pile of receipts and petty cash claims from the filming crew that he’d yet to sift through. To remind him that this would eventually be an unavoidable task, he’d stuck a large yellow Post-it note at the top, scribbled with: _Aranea - to deal with later._

And deal with Aranea later he did, for somewhere during lunchtime Noctis had texted him, telling him to join them all at Galdin Quay later for the wrap party. Noctis even told him to leave work early so that he could make the drive and arrive on time. Apparently the legendary cook Coctura had planned a sumptuous dinner for the royal couple and his entourage.

There was scarcely any parking by the time he reached the Quay. A wedding was being held there - he could see the banners and floral wreaths lining the wooden walkway leading to the restaurant. A big tent had been set up by the beach, festooned with beautiful fairy lights. Already the live band had started to play, although the dance floor was still relatively empty.

Conversation at the restaurant was marred by the fact that a group of wedding revelers were busily taking wefies with the bride and groom. Most of them were already tipsy from the champagne, so rowdy laughter was heard every now and then at the silliest jokes.

Fate had proven to possess a rather sadistic streak, for Ignis found himself seated right across Aranea. She’d largely ignored him, being engrossed in conversation with Prompto. The younger man was showing her shots he’d taken with his camera, and she’d sometimes laugh at a particularly funny one. She seemed...different, somehow. Ignis can’t quite put his finger on what.

“Hey, glad you can make it,” said Gladiolus.

“It was a royal summon, actually. I can’t not make it.”

“You’ve finally broke the ice with her yet?”

“With whom?”

Gladiolus rolled his eyes. “Don’t get cute with me, Scientia. _Her._ Who else d’you think I’m talkin’ about?”

“Oh. Well.” Ignis found himself looking down, smoothing the napkin on his lap as a way to prolong his response. “In a manner of speaking. Yes.”

“...And?”

“And nothing. We spoke. About work, mainly. End of story.” When Gladiolus shot him a skeptical look, he added: “It wasn’t a saccharine, eyes-meeting-across-the-room lovers’ reunion, if that’s what you’re imagining. We’re both professional adults, and let’s keep it that way.”

“U-huh. Look, I’m probably not supposed to say this…”

“But you’re going to say it anyway.”

“The other day she was showing us pictures of her kid. It got passed around, and...well, Lady Lunafreya made a comment. She said he kinda looked like you and suddenly everyone started agreeing.”

Ignis waited, possibly for the punchline of the joke.

“You don’t think you left her with a bun in the oven when you were knockin’ boots, didja?”

“I’m hearing two euphemisms, and neither one of them make any sense.” Ignis sighed when Gladiolus gave him another Look. “No. No, it can’t be. That’s nothing but pure hearsay.”

“So you don’t believe me? Hey, Aranea…”

“What?” she said, looking up at them.

“Show Iggy Julian’s picture, willya?”

Her expression immediately became guarded. Her eyes flickered towards Ignis before settling back towards Gladiolus. “Naw, sorry. That was just a one time show and tell. Can’t just whip him out like a wallet.”

“Aw, c’mon. It’s only Iggy.”

“Exactly. It’s only Iggy. Who I’m sure wouldn’t mind not seeing Julian’s photo because he’s got better things to do. Like finish his dessert or somethin’.”

Ignis had been watching carefully, and he saw it: that nervous flicker of her tongue over her lower lip, the subtle twitch of her hand indicating that this was a topic she wasn’t ready to talk about. And all the while her eyes held that steady gaze of someone who thinks she’s a really good poker player.

He could’ve pushed her, goaded her into giving in. If anything else, he relished the thought of making her uncomfortable. This sudden sadistic streak surprised even himself, and he’d put the thought away just as soon as it came. Aranea had her reasons for secrecy, and no amount of force would make her spill so easily.  

He wanted to tell her that it’s alright, she didn’t have to show anything, but at that moment her saving grace came in the form of Lady Lunafreya, who suddenly called upon her to give a speech.

* * *

 

 _Poor unhappy little things,_ Aranea thought as she watched Noctis and Lunafreya interact with each other. Their marriage was a political setup from the get-go, and yet they’d still have to act as if they’re really thrilled about it. There was no cliché meet cute, and rainbow unicorns certainly didn’t pop out and toot trumpets heralding the two’s eternal devotion towards each other. But then again, maybe that’s Aranea’s own jadedness speaking. Her atheism in the sacred union of matrimony was a badge she wore proud and loud.

Against her better judgement, she found herself sandwiched between Prompto and Lunafreya at the dinner table, along with Noctis, Iris, Gladiolus and - of course - Ignis. She would’ve gone back to the Crown City with her crew if it weren’t for Iris begging her to stay. She’d squeezed herself inside a dress she hastily bought from the hotel’s gift shop, and everyone obviously knew she and the display mannequin had the same taste in designers - for it too was wearing the exact replica of her 10,000 gil sarong wrap dress which was described as ‘an evocative whiff of tropical paradise’. Honestly, it made her feel like a parakeet, for she rarely ventured beyond her usual palette of colours, which were black and red. Prompto had assured her that she looked gorgeous, but he’d say that even if she wore a brick hat and a gunny sack, and thus his sense of aesthetic beauty still remained a moot point.

If there was one high note she could mention about the dinner, it was that the food was really delicious. Prompto let her go through some old photos in his camera, snickering when she saw some candid shots of Ignis.

“He looks so ridiculous when he smiles,” she commented. “No wonder he hardly does it.”

“You kiddin’ me?” said Prompto. “If you can make him laugh...like LMFAO kind of laugh where you can see his teeth and everything, that’s like discovering the...the black chocobo or something.” He furtively glanced around him before leaning in closer towards her. “Y’know, staff would call him ‘The Unsmiling Duke’ behind his back,” he said in a low voice. “Don’t ask me how it started. But _apparently_ there’s a betting pool going around on who can make him laugh.”

“That’s stupid. Of _course_ he laughs-”

“No. He chuckles, sniggers, grins, chortles, and smirks...all variations of non-laughs. We’re really talkin’ about solid gold LOL laughs here, man. As it stands, the prize money is now 30,000 gil.”

“No shit!”    

“Yeah, shit. So you think you wanna give it a go?”

“Hey, Aranea…” said Gladiolus.

“What?” she said.

“Show Iggy Julian’s picture, willya?”

Her smile faltered. Oh shit, she wasn’t ready for this kinda shit. “Naw, sorry. That was just a one time show and tell. Can’t just whip him out like a wallet,” she said, trying to remain casual.  

“Aw, c’mon. It’s only Iggy.”

“Exactly. It’s only Iggy. Who I’m sure wouldn’t mind not seeing Julian’s photo because he’s got better things to do. Like finish his dessert or somethin’.”

There was a tinkling sound as Lunafreya tapped her glass with a spoon. “May I have your attention, please?” She waited as everyone at the table stopped talking. “I would like to thank all of you for joining us tonight. But this gathering wouldn’t even be happening if not for our most esteemed guest, Aranea Highwind. I applaud her for her ideas, and vision...and I’m sure that in her most capable hands, our wedding video is going to be the best one ever.”

Everyone clapped. Aranea felt suddenly self-conscious as all eyes were now trained on her.

“She builds not only dreams, but makes them come true as well,” said Lunafreya. “And with that, I would like to call upon her to say a few words.”

“Wha-?” said Aranea. She was clearly not expecting this.

“Give Noct some advice about marriage,” said Gladiolus. “He’s gonna need it.”

The applause swelled around the table. Prompto patted her on the shoulder, giving her encouragement. She awkwardly stood up.

“I’m really the least qualified person you could ask about marriage…” she began.

“But at least you’ve gone through it,” Gladiolus quipped. A round of laughter followed.

“That’s right. _Through_ it. It really didn’t end up so well. Guys, don’t make the same mistakes I did. But even if you do, that’s cool too. Because screwing up and not being sure about things are actually the fun part. Actually, y’know what? Lemme start again.”

She took a deep breath. “Marriage,” she said. “Don’t do it. Seriously.”

She paused to look at the reaction of her audience, which was a mix of consternation and puzzlement. Ignis, however, remained impassive. She went on: “Don’t do it if you’re not ready to be selfless, respectful, and most of all honest with each other. Don’t do it because you want to be right all the time because Noctis, lemme tell you right now that your wife is _always_ right. That’s the key to a successful marriage, people. The wife is always right...even when she’s wrong.” She let the laughter around the table die.

“Forever’s a scary, scary thing,” she went on. “It’s even more scary when you’ve lost yourself and you don’t know what to do. But, if you’ve found the person who’d gladly guide you, go through all the rough patches with you, then...you might as well declare yourself the luckiest loser, and appreciate the fact that that chance might never come around the second time.” Raising her glass, she intoned: “To Noctis and Luna, I wish you all the happiness and love in the world.”

Everyone drank. Ignis especially made a point by looking at her over the rim of his glass. She pretended not to notice.

Soon afterwards they decided to hang out at the deck and just enjoy the night breeze. She declined, saying that she needed to retire to her room. Prompto begged and made his best puppy eyes, but she smiled and said she was really tired.

And she almost did go back to her room, really. That was until she noticed the placard announcing Dave and Fran’s wedding soirée. She had no idea who the hell they were, but her money’s definitely on that sheepish groom who still couldn’t believe he’s already married and the bride who tries her best to look like she’s now better off than her friends.

She looked in the direction of the tent by the beach, listening to the live band striking up a mambo tune. The emcee enthusiastically announced the song through the mic, causing a feedback over the audio system which reverberated over the waters.

“This one goes out to all the lovers out there! Yeah!”

She began to set off towards the party.

* * *

 

She reached the reception table, where a woman was waiting. The woman stood up when Aranea approached, a smile ready on her face.

“Welcome!” she said.

“Hi,” said Aranea. “Sorry I’m late. Hubster’s still stuck in the bathroom.” She grimaced and patted her belly. “Bad seafood,” she added in hush hush tones.

“Oh, I understand completely,” said the woman. “Are you a friend of the bride, or groom?”

“I’m no one, really. My husband and Dave are colleagues at work.”

“Well, come on right in. Sign your name on the guest book, please. If you have any well wishes, you can write them down too.”

Aranea took the pen, and scribbled down the first name she could think of: Agnes Scientia. After some thought, she added: _Good luck paying off that second loan you took for your wedding._

Bidding the woman a pleasant evening, Aranea stepped through the threshold, glancing up distastefully at the garlanded bower replete with plastic birds and flowers, and emerged right at the packed dance area. Some guests were even drunk enough to attempt a few funky dance moves they’d normally wouldn’t dare do if they were sober. There’s going to be a _lot_ of embarrassing videos come tomorrow. She spotted the bride stopping her husband from drinking. Probably didn’t want him too inebriated before their first dance together.

She made her way to the buffet area, where an ice sculpture of a trio of ballerinas served as the centrepiece. It was already melting.

She reached up to touch one of the ballerina’s outstretched hand, wondering why people would waste money on such silly frivolities. The stupid flowers, sculptures and cake...they all never last. Once the dust has settled, the newlyweds will be forced to face the harsh reality of living with another disgusting human being and all the complexities that entails afterwards.

The ballerina’s arm suddenly broke off. She stood, staring with dawning horror at what just happened. There was an elderly lady right behind her who was eyeing the canapés. Now she was glaring at Aranea as if she’d murdered a child inside a church.

Aranea nonchalantly stuck the arm in the middle of the salad bar. “It wasn’t a good sculpture anyway,” she shrugged, and walked away.

She managed to snag two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and tried to find a place to sit. She could take her chances at the kids’ table, where she’d be less likely to be cornered into an awkward conversation. The song had changed into a more disco beat, and somehow they’d managed to commandeer a DJ with a turntable. The resulting combo was a rather boogie nights kind of vibe interspersed by awkwardly done vinyl squeaks. This wedding party is getting better and better.

She took a sip of champagne, and almost spit it out when a familiar voice came from behind: “What are you doing here?”

She could already anticipate the look of disapproval before she even turned around. “Ah, Ignis. If you could just not blow my cover, I’d appreciate it very much, thank you. Champagne?”      

He took the proffered glass and put it on the nearest table. “Why are you here, Aranea?”

“I’m doing research,” she said in a stage whisper. “This right here-” she said, holding her arm out into a wide, sweeping arch as if encompassing the whole area, “is how you shouldn’t do a wedding party. What’re _you_ doing here?”

“Apparently I was informed that my wife has gone in ahead of me. And I had to answer a rather embarrassing question regarding the state of my bowels. What _did_ you tell that woman out front?”

“Nevermind what I said. Why’d you keep following me? Don’t you have to be Noctis’s nursemaid? Constantly clucking around him like a mother hen?” She imagined Noctis being pecked about by a bespectacled chicken, and laughed out loud.

“You’re drunk.”

“Not nearly drunk enough, I promise you.” She downed her glass and put it on the tray of a passing waiter.

They both stood watching the comings and goings around them in silence.

“I didn’t know _anyone_ at my wedding,” she eventually said. “Well, maybe Biggs and Wedge. And a bunch of people from work.”

“No family?”

“None that I’d care to mention.”

“You are here to remember what it’s like. Being in a wedding. Job-related research? I know that you’ve been disenchanted by the whole idea of marriage. I wouldn’t blame you. But to think less of Noctis and Lady Lunafreya for it? That’s petty bitterness.”

“What d’you mean?”

“You eye them with scorn. A hint of envy, perhaps. Which belies that beautiful speech you gave just now. I’d almost believed that you meant every single word.”

“Of _course_ I meant it! D’you think I’d ever sugarcoat anything?”

“No, I suppose you don’t. I must admit you confuse me sometimes. You’re brutally honest, and yet...you’re not.”

“It’s called character depth, Ignis. You should try it sometimes.” Aranea knew she was kidding herself when she said it. If there was anyone in the room who had fathomless depths, it would be him. There’s so many aspects of his persona that he’d kept carefully hidden from the world that even she could not see. But he had no malice, nor disdain within the fabric of his moral structure. He was reliable, straightforward. He was safe.

He wasn’t Ardyn.

“We should congratulate the bride and groom,” she said.

“And say what? ‘Thank you for letting us crash your party’?”

“Aw, c’mon. How many people here you think are actually invited?”

“I can think of at least two. Shall we take our leave, Agnes Scientia?”

She laughed. “Let’s go.”

They went past the gift table, where brightly wrapped presents of various shapes and sizes were being arranged carefully by an attendant. After a moment, Aranea ducked back to grab a likely-looking present before scurrying after Ignis.

He clucked his tongue at her behaviour. “That’s stealing.”

“What?” she said, sniggering. “It’s not like they’re ever gonna use it. Trust me on this one. Let’s see...I bet this is a food processor,” she added, weighing out the box with her hands.

“Please...that’s a blender,” he sneered. “I am 90% positive.”

She looked surprised. “Wha-? How’d you know?”

“Years and years of organizing royal functions and arranging gifts for dignitaries and office staff alike. I’ve become rather adept at guessing what’s inside a box by size alone.”

“You could’ve mentioned that just now!” she complained. “Then we’d be able to pick a really good one.”

“Put it back, Aranea.”

“No. Finders keepers. And besides, we could make this Noctis and Lunafreya’s wedding gift. Problem solved!”

He made an attempt to take the present from her. “We need to give it back.”

“Nuh-uh,” she said, ducking away from his hands. “I’m keeping this one. And besides, we can’t go back because I think the lady’s onto us.”

The attendant had noticed the missing gift and was eyeing the two of them suspiciously. She called a colleague over and started gesticulating towards them.

Ignis and Aranea looked at each other.

“Skedaddle?” she suggested.

“Yes, let’s.”

* * *

 

They’d found a rotted tree trunk somewhere further away on the beach shores. They both sat down on it, the now opened blender box settling in nicely between them. The lights from the restaurant reflected over the rippling waters, while the sea foam lapped gently over the surf, creating an altogether relaxing atmosphere.

Aranea relished the feeling of cool sand between her toes. She’d taken off her heels, tossed them somewhere to the side. Ignis was hunched over, elbows resting on his knees as he pondered over the horizon.

“Say something. You’re making things awkward again,” she said.

“Me? I’m feeling rather content, actually. I don’t have the need to fill silence with meaningless words. It’s not an economical use of my time.”

“And sitting here with me and a blender is?”

“That would depend entirely on what you wish to say and also the quality of said blender.”

She laughed. “Wow, you’re such a riot.”

“Prompto told me the shoot went well.”

“Yeah. I’m kinda surprised. But he’s really great at it. Arranged all the shots, and didn’t even need my help. If anything else, _he_ taught me a thing or two.”

Eyebrows had been raised at the appointment of Prompto as the official wedding photographer. He was deemed too green, too much of an outsider to fully understand the requirements needed for an event this important. Already Noctis had called for various policy reforms that some of the elder ministers weren’t happy about. They were too busy clinging to the old ways to see that Lucis needed to evolve if they were to adapt to the changing times. And change was definitely coming, with this historic marriage poised in the horizon. Getting several people with known Imperial ties involved was a long-term strategic move in Noctis’s part.

“I believe we’ve picked the right people with the best artistic vision to steer this project. Yourself included.”   

Aranea smiled. “So we’re planning to compile all the photos into one wedding album and sell it as part of an exclusive limited edition set. Not sure if Iris has talked to you about it yet. She’s the one with all the planning.”

“She showed me an edit of the old road trip. It was good.”

“Yeah.”

Silence descended upon them, the kind of silence brimming with things they’d always wanted to say to each other. Aranea knew he wasn’t there to talk about the shoot. She also knew that if there’s a chance to get some weight off her chest, now would be it.

“I owe you a lot of things, and a big fat apology is one of it,” she said. “I’m really sorry, for how everything went down with us. For not telling you about Ardyn. For not even contacting you afterwards to explain. Guess I was too much of a coward to do that. Karma’s really bitten me in the ass on this one, huh? That bitch.” She snickered, albeit weakly. “Anyway, I’ve a whole list of excuses to give you, and they all sound dumber than the next.”

“Try one.”  

“Ardyn’s a...complex man. Maybe at one point I did love him, but...I’d already forgotten what it was like. Too many times living apart tend to do that. His loyalty will always be towards his job and the emperor. I eventually became...an afterthought. And that’s where the whole problem started. But he _did_ try to fix things. On our last wedding anniversary he surprised me with a trip to Altissia to celebrate. Damn romantic, right? It was supposed to be five days of just us. But on the second day he got called off for some urgent work. So I was left behind, stranded like some cheap prom date. I accepted a job while I was there, and by the time I got to Vesperpool, I was pissed off enough to seriously consider getting a divorce. I mean, I’d already taken off my wedding ring, for goodness sakes!”  

She paused. Ignis was still looking at the ocean. Not once he made any eye contact with her. “Then I met you,” she said. “I really, really did like you. You’re different.”

“Different how?”

“Just...different.” She sighed. “Look, if you’re expecting me to wax lyrical over how awesome you are, then just don’t. You’re a stand up guy. You listen. And you watch. You do two things that most people are either too stupid or too selfish to do. That’s all I can say.”

“If you really did went through with the divorce that time, would you have gone after me?”

A long pause from her, prompting him to finally look at her. She was just a silhouette from where he was sitting, but even then he could see her response.

She nodded. Once.

He cast his eyes back to the waters, a feeling blooming in his chest which he cannot name. This was a new thought process which he needed time to sift through.

“It was a moment of...unexpectations. I never expected-” he stopped himself, unable to say it. He never expected to fall so fast and so hard for her. Things like this had never happened before to him. No amount of analyzing could help him fathom the hows and whys that went on between them. It simply was what it was.

“Expected what?”

He really didn’t know how to put it. He was terribly hurt and betrayed, and he did what he’d normally do when confronted by any form of complex emotional conundrum: he’d bury it, like a sand crab, and did other things to distract him. But he’d eventually reach a tipping point, and that’s where he’ll frighten his friends the most. Aranea’s the exact kind of woman who could fly past his defenses and push his buttons. Any further dealings with her would just end badly. That’s what logic had dictated to him. But emotionally? She was like an unsolvable Rubik’s cube, or a perfectly cut diamond with many brilliant facets no matter where it turned. Studying her would be merely out of intellectual curiosity.

Or so he’d like to tell himself.

“I’ve made my peace with what happened between us. So should you,” he said.

“Sooo...I give you Coctura’s Kitchen Deluxe 5000 Multipurpose Blender as an olive branch? I think you’d find better use for it than me anyway.”

He snickered. “Sure. Why not? And...Aranea?”

“What?”

“No more lies. Please. I’m not Ardyn.”

She sighed. She understood what he really meant. Lies were far more painful than the truth. “I know.”

The sky suddenly lit up, illuminating the two of them looking at each other. It was almost immediately followed by a reverberating boom. A magnificent flower of sparks burst out in a radiant shade of green and red. More fireworks appeared afterwards, blazing towards the heavens before exploding into a dazzling display of lights.

Aranea looked up, smiling.

“Now _that_ is something worth waiting for,” she said.

Afterwards, during the wee hours of the night, Gladiolus was the only one left loitering at the restaurant deck, enjoying a quiet smoke and staring into the vast ocean, thinking about nothing in particular. He spotted Ignis and Aranea walking back to the hotel together. She had his suit jacket draped over her shoulders.

Gladiolus smiled knowingly to himself. 

* * *

**Next episode: An early morning paddle which ends up with two people in the lake. Plus, a bonus narrative on catoblepas mating habits by Professor Scientia.**


	8. Their Great Memory Card Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis discovers another aspect of Aranea and realizes that he really didn't know her that well.

**AN: First off - thanks for the interest towards 'Push Me Pull You' and this one fic right here. I think it's smashing that the Ignis/Aranea pairing is gaining momentum. Let's expand this fandom and add more Highspecs babies...because I'm still in complete denial over the game's ending. More like, rolling on the floor and going tra-la-la kind of denial.  
**

**Oh, and there are no islands in Alstor Slough. I just made that shit up.**

* * *

Aranea eyed the catoblepas with some apprehension. It was mating season, and there were three of them converging at the Alstor Slough. This particular one was the largest male she’d ever seen. She had no idea how Ignis could identify its gender, but then again that man was a goddamn walking encyclopedia of Eos wildlife. No, no. He’s not an encyclopedia. He’s probably swallowed an entire search engine and now he’s got gazillions of information inside that head of his. No wonder he frowns a lot. He has to concentrate to retain all that data.

She heard footsteps crunching the grass behind her, and knew that he was still following. They were meant to be travelling back to the Crown City earlier that day with Noctis’s convoy, but a last minute phone call from Wedge changed everything. One of the production assistants had failed to mention that a group of imps had attacked their camp in the middle of the night and made off with some of their equipment...most particularly a camera with its memory cards. 3 terabytes of footage, shot within a span of three days. If she’d lost those, then the entire shoot would’ve been pointless. After berating the assistant for not telling her sooner, she went to Gladiolus to beg for a possible transportation loan. Ignis, unsurprisingly, volunteered almost at once.

“Why on earth would daemons want to make off with a camera of all things?” he wondered.

“Probably to do a PSA video,” she grunted, almost tripping over a rock. “We’re not monsters. We’re just misunderstood. Daemons are friends, not food.”

“People actually eat daemons?”

“Dunno. Heard about this cult in Gralea where they believe that drinking daemon blood makes them immortal. Seriously, some shit are so messed-up crazy, even I can’t make it up.”

“Ah. Just your average despotic, power-hungry fascist talking, then.”

“Everyday of the week, 24/7. Tune in to channel Empire. Long live Niflheim,” she deadpanned.

“You seem so eager to disassociate yourself from them.”

“Who in their right mind wouldn’t? I’ve long ago thrown my lot in with you sorry losers. For one thing, your food is better and the people are nicer. And besides, I’ve always had a soft spot for the underdogs. That, and the fact that I’d get arrested the moment I set foot in Gralea. Which explains why I can’t just march right in and take Julian back, by the the way.”

“Arrested? What did you do?”

“I didn’t try to assassinate the emperor, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Well, alright. I can safely rule that one out, then.”

They kept on walking in silence.

“Remember what I said about lying, Aranea,” he prompted.

“Does omitting certain facts fall under that category?”

“Very much so.”

“Rats.” She sighed. “Fine. I was in military school. That’s my dad’s idea of a good education. And I was _really_ good at it, believe me. They’d even got a nickname for me. Would’ve been a top student in my batch too...if it weren’t for the fact that I ran away two weeks before my graduation. Found my way to Lucis, and I’ve been living and working here ever since.”

“That explains your handiness with a rifle.”

“Yeah. That’s about the only thing they’d allow a civvie to handle here. But put a decent grenade launcher in my hands, I’d definitely know what to do. But my weapon of choice? The lance. I’d only picked it up because everyone said that nobody uses it anymore. Well, take me sparring anytime and I’ll show you just how good I am.”

“Duly noted. What’s all this about getting arrested, then?”  

“They consider me running away as treason. I’ve brought dishonour to the empire by not dedicating my life to her. I’d say it’s all political right-wing bullshit. So that’s basically me in a nutshell. The exiled disgrace of Niflheim. I’m _soo_ proud of myself.”

“Well, considering that, I’m sure Lucis is more than happy to welcome you with open arms. You can plead political asylum and Noctis will definitely grant you one.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind. But...it’s so hard shaking off Niflheim’s doctrines...y’know? I mean, I still put up the flag in my room and I’d salute it every night before I go to bed. I even keep a picture of the emperor and weep happy tears everytime he passes a ridiculous and human rights violating law.”  

He glanced over at her. She was smirking.

“Someday you’ll make a good stand up comedian,” he said.

“Aw, really? Maybe I just might take that up if this whole directing gig doesn’t work out.”

“Just out of curiosity: what will happen if you get captured?”

“They’ll take away my passport for starters. I’ll never be able to leave the capital except for missions. Aranea Highwind the director will be no more, and you’ll probably meet Commodore Highwind instead. As for Julian, well...they’ll keep him under lock and key just to make sure I behave.” She shook her head. “Going back is _never_ an option.”

Ignis made no comment. He hated the idea of not being able to see her again. Especially when things were starting to go well between them...or so he hoped.

The sun fried the top of their heads. He could already feel his dress shirt sticky with sweat and clinging to his back. They’d circled all the way to the southwestern edge of the lake, and they could see the small island where the camera bag was last seen. Unless an alternative presented itself, they’d have to swim in order to get there - an option he wasn’t open to.

“Shit, you look like you’re about to get a heatstroke,” Aranea commented. “Why don’t you take a break and I’ll try find a way to get across?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Let’s just get this over and done with.”

“How the hell did it even get there? Imps are so dumb, they’d think anything is worth taking.”

“They _do_ have a rather thieving nature.”

“Well, _thank you_ for that rather informative tidbit, Professor Scientia. Now can you possibly devise a suitable mode of transport for us? An engine propulsion jet pack, for example. Or a particle transporter. That’d be pretty awesome.”

“Or we could just row.”

“What?”

“There’s a rowboat right there.”

She turned towards where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a boat, half-hidden between the reeds.

“I knew that,” she said, trying to assume a nonchalant stance. “I was just...testing you.”

“Hm, quite,” he said, the corners of his lips quirking into a slight smile. “Amazing what the power of deductive reasoning can do. And to think that all it requires is to sit still and observe.”

“Are you funning me?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. Me, fun? I’m just a boring man with no imagination whatsoever.”

She growled.

The boat had clearly seen better days. Moss had crept in on the insides, yet it still looked shipshape enough. Probably this had been an angler’s favourite fishing spot once upon a time. She wondered what happened to that person.

In the meantime, the catoblepas she’d spotted earlier on lumbered towards them, curious of their activities. It was trying to decide whether they were a) food; or b) something to have sex with. Even at a distance, she could already smell the sour stink of its breath. She hurriedly began to push the rowboat into the water. It didn’t budge. Mud and silt had built up at the bottom, creating a groove that held it in place. She dug her toes into the ground and pushed again. It moved - by about half an inch.

She huffed. “C’mon, Aranea. Quit bein’ such a wuss,” she muttered to herself. Placing both hands on the boat, she pushed. She sensed a presence next to her, and suddenly the boat shot forward so fast, the motion almost propelled her headfirst into the lake.

“You know...you _are_ allowed to ask for help,” said Ignis reproachfully, wiping his palms together to clean it of mud and grime. “You know how to use this thing?”

“Pointy end goes forward. Easy peasy.” She bent over to pick up the oars, but he beat her to it.

“I’d rather not have you send us to the bottom of the lake, thank you very much,” he said.

“What, suddenly you’re a rowing expert now? Didja pull a beginner’s manual out of your ass?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Come now. We haven’t got time to lose.” He clambered into the boat, sat down and then held out a hand towards her.

She eyed it suspiciously. “What?”

“Climb aboard.” He clicked his tongue in exasperation. “Unless if you want to fall into the water and make a complete fool out of yourself, be my guest. I think this way is far easier and dryer.”

“Hmph, fine.” She gingerly stepped into the boat, holding onto its sides. It wobbled slightly with the added weight. She grabbed his hand and felt his fingers tighten over hers as she tried to balance herself. Finally lowering herself into sitting position, she watched as he used an oar to push them off the shore.

He began to row; taking long, fluid strokes to propel them towards the island. He really did seem to know what he was doing. Aranea passed the time by looking at the scenery. All things considered, it really was a nice day. A gentle breeze picked up, causing ripples to skitter across the water.

“This is romantic,” she said dryly. “Now all we need is a picnic basket and some trashy poetry.”

“I thought your misandric sensibilities reject any notion of romance,” Ignis grunted. Beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead from exertion.

“I’m not misandric! I’m just...realistic. And maybe a little bit jaded. Y’know, I personally find that word offensive. Misandric, hah!” she said condescendingly.

“I stand corrected, then. Do excuse my presumptuousness.”

A sudden deep, rumbling bellow to their left made them look up. Another catoblepas had reared it head up over the trees. It swayed it neck left and right before letting out another ponderous cry.

“Oh, dear,” said Ignis. He sounded worried.

“What? What’s happening?”

“That was a rather...erm... _urgent_ mating call from a female. She’s in heat, and at any moment now our gigantic friend over there-” he pointed at the first male catoblepas who was most definitely making a beeline in their direction. “Is going to come after her, disregarding everything in its path. And _we,_ happen to be in the way.”

“God. So...what? It’s like, ‘I’m horny. Come and get me, big boy.’ kinda thing?”

“Pretty much so, yes.”

“Well, what‘re you waiting for? _Row it like you mean it!”_

Ignis didn’t need further prompting. They reached the island and he helped Aranea clamber off the boat. The island wasn’t so large that she didn’t need 20 minutes to completely circle around its circumference on foot. Which was why she found the bag easily enough. The camera was thankfully intact, but most importantly the memory cards were safe and sound, tucked inside their waterproof casings.

A third catoblepas had joined the female, nuzzling its head against hers and causing her to let out an appreciative rumble. The ground shook slightly as she stomped her feet, probably to show how happy she was. Aranea didn’t know nor care to find out, for Ignis had already started calling out to her. She hurried back to him.

“Got it,” she said breathlessly.

“Good,” he said. “We really need to go.”

She got into the boat and as he rowed them back to where they came from, he said: “I think we’ll have a sparring match in our hands if we’re not careful. A second suitor had come vying for the female’s affection. I doubt our friend likes that very much.”

“Catoblepas sparring? That’s rich. It’d be like watching glaciers fighting.”

“It can be fiercer than you may think. Which is precisely why-”

Suddenly there was very loud, gut-wrenching roar. Aranea felt her stomach drop all the way to the bottom of the lake. She stared, with increasing dread, at Ignis. The first catoblepas had spotted its rival, and was moving towards it at a surprising burst of speed. It bore towards them as fast as its ungainly feet could take it, a veritable force of nature all by itself, acting like a steamroller ready to flatten everything and anyone in its path...which was, unfortunately, Ignis and Aranea.

“Holy shit. _Step on it!”_ Aranea shouted.

“It’s moving too fast! Brace for impact!”

_“Aaahh!”_

It didn’t so much as hit them but caused a tidal wave big enough to buffet the boat and capsize it. They were both tipped unceremoniously into the lake. Ignis felt something hit his head as he went under. He clawed his way back to the surface, gasping for breath and frantically looking around him for Aranea. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Aranea!” he called out. He realized that he’d lost his glasses. “Drat. _Aranea!!”_

Still no sign of her. She’d probably been knocked unconscious and was still underwater. She probably didn’t even know how to swim. He cursed himself for not making sure beforehand.  

“ARANEA!!”

Only the rumble of feuding catoblepases and the chirping of birds filled the silence of his dread.

* * *

The fishes weren’t biting today. They’d probably gone into hiding due to the restless catoblepas. That giant animal had been bellowing its mating call for days now. Navyth was seriously considering abandoning this fishing ground and try his luck at Cape Caem.

He spotted two people rowing off in the distance. Probably lovebirds off to answer their own mating call. They should’ve known that these parts are too dangerous to be at this moment. He’d witnessed far too many catoblepas duels to know that one should just stay away at least until the birthing season.

He stopped what he was doing when he saw the boat go over. One head popped up after a while, bobbing over the surface as it seemingly searched for something. Navyth threw down his fishing rod and started sprinting towards them when the second person didn’t resurface. As he ran, huffing and puffing, he cursed the fact that there’s no signage reminding folks to put on lifejackets before they go rowing. The waters in these parts can be dangerous even for seasoned swimmers.

He saw the second person reappear, shouting triumphantly as it held aloft something. They both paddled to the shore, and by the time he reached them, they’d already flopped onto the grass and the woman was trying to administer first aid to the man, whose forehead was bleeding.

“You’re getting bacteria into it!” the man fussed. “Ow!” he recoiled and slapped the woman’s hands away when she prodded too closely to the wound. “Do you not understand the concept of ‘gentle’, Aranea?”

The woman growled. “Stop being such a bitch, and shut up, Ignis! It’s just a small cut! I’ll take you to the hospital and have you stitched up in no time!”

“There’s a clinic about 15 minutes’ drive away,” Navyth spoke up. Ignis and Aranea looked at him as if they’d noticed him for the first time. “I can take ya’ll there if you’d like. What about you, miss?” he asked, addressing Aranea. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” said Aranea, flicking bits of weed off her sodden hair. “This dingdong right here probably has a concussion,” she said nastily, jabbing a thumb towards Ignis.

“Well, then. Best we get you into the capable hands of a doctor, yeah? You two just sit tight while I bring the ol’ truck around,” said Navyth.

* * *

Aranea wrung out her hair as best as she could. She’d already teased the dripping locks out of her usual braids, and rinsed them as thoroughly as the tiny sink would allow her, but they still had that brackish smell from the lake.

The clinic’s toilet also had a pail of water. She’d stripped herself out of her wet clothes and used the soapdish to pour water on herself, cleaning herself out just well enough to look marginally decent. She had an extra set of clothes in her bag - a habit she’d cultivated during her years of constantly being on the go - but her shoes and socks were a lost cause. She quickly got dressed, then dried her hair with the hand drier.

She unzipped the camera bag, and took out the memory card casing. It was still intact - thankfully - with its contents all nice and dry. Transferring them to her own bag, she then inspected the camera. Its outer body was wet, and a quick press of the ‘On’ button had confirmed her fears - water had gone inside and fried its circuits. The digital display was showing gibberish, and when she tried to flip open the flash, it didn’t work. Shit. Her mind was already calculating the amount of damage fee she had to pay the guy she’d rented it from. 8000 gil per day, multiplied by five...add another 2k, give or take…

Damn.

She trudged back to where Ignis was sitting. He was still wrapped up in Navyth’s blanket, and the doctor had patched him up nicely. He was just waiting for the nurse to call him for his meds.

“Everything okay? Nothing life-threatening?”

“No concussion, thank goodness,” said Ignis. “Just a slight headache.”  

“That’s good,” she said. “There’s a 7-Eleven next door. I’m gonna go over there and see if I can get some slippers. You want anything? I could probably scrounge out a ‘I Heart Alstor Slough’ t-shirt or something. Anything’s better than those wet clothes.”

“I’m fine,” said Ignis. “Thank you for your concern.”

“You sure? Pneumonia’s no joke. I don’t want to have to explain to Noctis how I almost killed his royal advisor.” She cast a critical glance over him, taking note of how much he looked like a drowned rat with his hair now flat on his head and drying in messy little clumps. Without his glasses, she could now see the fine lines at the corners of his eyes, and a silvery hint of an old scar just near his right temple. Has it always been there? She couldn’t remember.

He had an extra frown on top of his usual frown. He probably felt undignified, looking like this and yet still trying to make the best out of it. He held his chin up high, staring steadfastly at the nurse working at the counter, even though Aranea knew he could barely make out the nurse’s facial features, much less her nametag...which was ‘Becky’.

Without thinking, Aranea reached up and smoothed out the line between his brows with her thumb. That caught his attention. He looked at her, puzzlement and curiosity written out on his face.

“Cheer up. We’ll get out of here soon. She’s probably making doubly sure that she gave you the right meds,” she said. “I know this whole thing is my fault, so lemme make it up to you. Once we get back to the Crown City, I’ll buy you lunch. How’s that sound? You pick the place.”

“Lunch? It’ll be almost teatime by the time we reach there.”

“I didn’t say that it has to be today.” Inwardly, Aranea thought to herself: yes. Lunch is good. Lunch is safe. It’s something that colleagues do. Platonic colleagues. Even though she felt that the term ‘platonic’ was complete baloney. Okay - marginally friendzoned ex-lover, then. Yeugh...she really had to stop rationalizing everything by labelling them. It’s like naming a houseplant ‘Schmooples’ just to justify its existence.

“We almost got run over by a great lumbering beast and we drank from the lake. I’d say merely lunch just doesn’t cut it.”

Aranea’s jaw dropped open. “You’re playing hard sell on me?”

“It’s only a fair turnabout.”

“Fine. What d’you have in mind, then?”

“Lunch, tea, and dinner,” he promptly said, and then added: “Not necessarily on the same day. I pick the place, you pay for everything.”

“Sure. I’ll just use your debit card. You’ve no problem with that, I hope?”

“How come you’ve never used it before?”

The segue into the topic was so flawless that she couldn’t help but wonder if he’s been plotting it all along.

“I’ve...still got a bit of cash left. Good till the end of the month at least.”

“Excellent. Then you wouldn’t object to me asking for it back.”

“No! Well, I mean...if you don’t mind, I’d like to hold on to it for a bit longer. Y’know, just in case.” When he cocked a questioning brow at her, she added: “It’s like a tampon - you never know when you might need one.”

“Hm.” It was a very thoughtful ‘Hm’, one that was loaded with a dozen other ‘Hm’s, questions and analyses. Ignis thought out several different tangents at once, and one of it was probably dissecting the connection between tampons and debit cards.  

“I thought they’d already sorted out your financial arrangement by now,” he said.

“Who’s ‘they’? If by ‘they’ you mean invisible gremlins sent to solve all of my problems at the snap of a finger, then I must’ve missed them.”

“You already have your own banking account, do you not?”

“Yeah?”

“And I’ve already given you your 30% cheque last week.”

“Yeah. And half of it is set aside to pay for that lawyer you guys promised to get me. Speaking of which, is he gonna see me or what? Haven’t got a call from anyone about that.”

“He’s wrapping up a rather...complicated legal tussle, but rest assured that he will assist you the moment it is over.”

“Great,” said Aranea, although she sounded irritated more than anything else. “Well, I hope we get to talk soon, because I don’t think I have much time left.”

“Why? What’s the matter?”

She muttered something ineligible.

“Did something happen, Aranea?”

In response, she crossed her arms and hunched over, staring sullenly at her feet. Ignis sighed, sensing that she’d already retreated back to whatever fortress she’s built for herself. He wondered if she’d always been like this, and suddenly realized that...save for her official data and reconnaissance reports, he really didn’t know her all that well as a person.

He remembered her flirtiness, and unabashed sense of humour. She still had that now, at the very least. She’s a generous lover, giving as much as she took. As awkward as he was during their first tryst, she’d remained patient and never once made him think any less of himself. This mulish behaviour, however, was new; as was her tendency to deflect uncomfortable questions. He wondered which part of her that’s real, and which part of her that’s cherry-picked to suit the person she’s with. She had so many different personas hanging in her closet that she must find it exhausting. At least, that’s what Ignis thought it would be.

The funny thing was, she was like a shadow merely passing through the pages of his life. There were no photographs, no tokens of affection proving the existence of their relationship…save for a brief string of text messages and the marks they left each on other’s bodies during their frenzied bouts of coupling. Even then, those things faded with time...and yet the memories he had of her was still as vivid as if it was yesterday, now all the more dredged up with her reappearance like a dusty box in an attic.

“I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you. I understand the urgency of your situation. I truly do. And despite everything that’s happened between us in the past, you should know that I too will do everything I can to assist you. You have my word on that.”

She finally looked up, all traces of guardedness evaporating as an expression of utter relief flooded her features. “That’s really...the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me this whole week. Thank you.”

He smiled, and fought the sudden impulse to touch her hair.

“But, first things first: you need to get better. You take the meds, and I’ll drive us back.”

His smile disappeared. Allow someone else to touch his precious Audi Le Mans Quattro, much less drive it? Not bloody likely.

“Ah, no. That is entirely out of the question.”

“Shut up. The painkillers will knock you out, and I’m not gonna wait five hours until you’re feeling yourself again. I promise I’ll be gentle to your little girl. You’re worried about the car, aren’t you?”

“No,” he said, a tad defensively.

“Yes, you are. I have you know that I’m actually an excellent driver.”

“Of course. I haven’t the slightest doubt of your capabilities,” he said dryly. He’d seen the state of her car - all dings and scratches from her laissez-faire approach towards parking. It was so dusty from the road that some well-meaning citizen had written out ‘Wash me’ on the surface, followed by a smiley face and a phone number. Oh wait - probably what it really meant was ‘Call me’.

“If you won’t let me drive, then I’ll just take the bus back. Don’t think I won’t do it.”

He sighed. “Fine. You’ll drive. But-” he raised an admonishing finger at her, “No loud music, no littering, no getting dirt on the seat, and most importantly - no going over 80.”

“Aw, whaaat? That’s an Audi, man! She’s _built_ for speed! She’s practically _begging_ for it! We’ve got a highway that’s pretty much straight. I can get us back in less than two hours!”  

“No. Going. Over 80.”  

Aranea groaned. “Fine, mom.”    

* * *

**Next episode: Prompto discovers a secret, and Ignis has a naughty little dream.**


	9. I Can Dream About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis gets further insight on who Aranea is as he struggles with his increasing attraction towards her.

**AN: Rating's bumped up due to the extra naughty bits.**

* * *

_“Do you like what you see?” Aranea whispered, provocatively parting her diaphanous robe to reveal the wonderful, shadowy curves lying within. She had on a pair of lacy black panties and nothing else. Ignis felt his mouth go dry, the pounding of his heart saying that yes, he really, really did like what he’s seeing._

_She was giving him bedroom eyes as she slowly slipped the robe off her shoulders, letting it fall onto the ground. She flexed her back, and he revelled at the sight of her sternum pressing against her skin, rising with each breath she took. She stepped outside the pool of fabric, unashamed of her own near nakedness as she sauntered towards him._

_“Let’s make you more comfortable,” she said, pushing him onto a chair and then straddling his lap. She bit her lower lip as she ground herself against him. Oh, how he would love to attack and ravage that mouth and coax out every single scream of ecstasy from her. “Someone’s_ very _happy to see me,” she hummed._

_“Yes, oh God yes…” Ignis swallowed hard, his mind now a complete incoherent mess._

_She began to undo the buttons of his dress shirt, bending over to trace the contours of his collarbone with her tongue. “I love you. I love everything about you,” she purred, now trailing up his neck, finding a pulse point and suckling it gently. Her grinding became more insistent, and he became even more painfully aware of how much he wanted to seek that deep warmth inside of her._

_She rolled her head back towards the ceiling. “Touch me,” she moaned. “Ignis, touch me.”_

_His hand obeyed as if it possessed a will of its own. He reached out to palm her left breast, while his other hand slid about her waist, crushing her further against him._

_“Yes, just like that,” she said breathlessly. She looked back down on him, and he could see her pupils blown up, a tantalizing glisten over her lips which made him dart forward and kiss her. Their tongues duelled like mating snakes, each seeking dominance over the other. All he could think of at that moment was to just rip her panties off and take her hard and fast._

_She broke them apart. “You need to do something for me first,” she whispered, tracing a finger tenderly over his jawline._

_“Anything, Aranea,” he said, desperate like a man dying of thirst. “Just name it.”_

_She kissed him once more, a tender, lingering act of love._

_“You must breep, breep, breep.”_

_“What?” he said, utterly confused._

_“Breep, breeeeep, breep.”_

BREEEP BREEP BREEP.

Ignis woke up and slammed a hand over his blaring alarm. With a groan, he rolled over and buried his face into the pillow. Aranea’s face was still burned like a corona on the insides of his eyelids, the realness of her touch dissipating as the fog of sleep eventually lifted away from him. What the hell was he? A 16-year-old? He’s too bloody old to get wet dreams! What is wrong with him?!

He’s a man, he’d rationalized. A healthy, fully functional man with a libido just like anyone else. And right now, that carnal need was pointed at one person with big red signs flashing over her head, shouting ‘Prize!’. His mind inadvertently strayed towards her in those lacy black panties again and his body immediately responded-

A cold shower, he thought as he hurriedly got out of bed, ignoring the half mast in his pants. A long, cold shower where he thinks about taxes, and...and Imperial war machines, and-

-Aranea straddling him, breasts bouncing as she rode him hard.

The shower lasted longer than he’d expected.

* * *

 

Cellphone held against one ear, Ignis firmly pressed the doorbell for the fourth time as he listened to the ringtone. Eventually a nasally voice with a fake accent answered: _“Solly, thees is a recorded message-ah. You have reached the-”_

“Nice try, Aranea,” he gritted out. “I know you’re awake. Hurry up and open the door.”

A brief pause, and then Aranea said in her normal voice: _“Shit.”_

He waited until he heard shuffling behind the door. It opened, revealing her rubbing her eyes, hair disheveled from sleep.

“Mornin’,” she mumbled, voice still stuffy from her cold. It was actually almost 12pm. Taking note of his extra megawatt scowl, she started. “Whoa, man. You’re lookin’ at me like you want to eat me alive. You had a rough night too?”

“Nothing that warrants extra concern,” said Ignis, more curt than he’d intended. He was just reminded of his dream when he saw her again. It didn’t help matters that she was wearing a t-shirt with the words ‘Lick This’ emblazoned boldly right across her chest. “May I come in?”

Wordlessly she stepped aside. “Y’know, you can just get in anytime you like,” she said as he brushed past. “You _do_ have a spare key. That way I don’t have to get up everytime you knock.”

“That borders on impropriety. I might catch you at an inopportune time.”

“Ugh, you and your archaic code of conduct,” she groaned to the ceiling. “Fine. Suit yourself. But just so you know, the next time you call, I _will_ impersonate you. How’s your head, by the way?”   

“Fine.” He made no effort to elaborate himself further, causing her to throw her hands up in vexation.

 _“Thank you for asking, Aranea,”_ she said, in a passable imitation of his accent. _“That was very thoughtful of you.”_ She’d even earned extra points by throwing in his frown.

“I’m sorry. I just…”

“Haven’t had your coffee? Why don’t you make us some while I change into something more decent? What brings you here, anyway?”

It has been three days since she’d stayed at Noctis’s apartment, and already there were signs of her making herself very comfortable. The couch had a slept-in look, with a discarded blanket hanging carelessly over the headrest. He eyed the empty salted peanut bag, its leftover content spilling onto the coffee table. Next to it was a half-full mineral bottle, condensation pooling at the bottom. Most likely it will leave a stain on the cherry wood surface once it dries, so with an irritated click of his tongue, Ignis picked the bottle up.

At the kitchen, he took note of the dirty dishes stacked higgledy-piggeldy in the sink. Seems like the only thing she was capable of cooking was instant noodles. And boiling water.

“Just like Noctis,” he sighed.

He didn’t dare to hope that she had the time to properly shop for sundries, but a quick check in the sparsely filled cabinets yielded a pack of instant coffee. It wasn’t a brand he was familiar with, and he was leery about trying anything new. A quick brew followed by a cautious, experimental sip revealed to him that yes: this is indeed terrible coffee, but not terrible enough to turn him away from it.

“Hey, c’mon over to the study,” she called out.

He navigated the hallway with two steaming mugs in his hands. The study room was a misnomer - Noctis hardly ever used it save to store things. All of that was gone now, except for a table and chair. The new additions, however, made him stop dead in his tracks.

“What’s all this?” he said.

The table now had two widescreen monitors, along with a pair of speakers and a broadcast monitor. A network of wires and cables crisscrossed each other at the back, all connected to the CPU tower humming gently below the table. She was in the middle of editing: there were footage thumbnails arranged in one screen, while the other showed the playback shot. Right now it was frozen at an image of Noctis and Lunafreya feeding chocobos.

“My wizarding lab, obviously. This is where all the magic happens. Ooh, c’mere, you sweet nectar of the gods,” she took one mug from him and immediately swigged half of its contents. She still had that infernal ‘Lick This’ t-shirt on, but her face had that freshly-scrubbed look. He could see the droplets of water on her neck, and the wet strands of her bangs sticking to her cheeks.

“This wasn’t part of the budget,” he pointed out.

“Relax, willya? It’s my own rig. Finally managed to get it out of storage, and thank goodness everything’s still working. Okay, so-” she sat down with a business-like air and motioned towards the empty swivel chair next to her. “Park yourself right here. As per our initial discussion, we’re releasing four videos in total, one per week till the finale for the screening at the concert. The first one’s dropping this weekend. It’s a teaser clip, and Iris and her team are handling that. You’ve already seen it, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. I thought it was rather well done.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” she said flatly. “Second video’s gonna focus on Noctis - a featurette, really...on who he is and what Lucis is all about. Well - you’ve already read the script, but I’m saying it again to make sure that we’re both on the same page.”

“Of course.” She had silver toe rings on. When does she even start wearing them? He was acutely aware of her chipped red nail polish, and began to imagine how the delicate blade of her fingers would feel like sliding down his face.

“Third one will be about Lunafreya. I’ll be shooting filler shots around Insomnia and Tenebrae, but I’ll finish up the rough edits for both videos before that. You with me so far?”

“Hm? Yes, filler shots. It’s all there in the schedule.” He didn’t think he’d really seen her bare feet before. She had a wonderfully curved instep. He wondered if she enjoys foot massages.

“Yep. Iris’s team will handle the interview segment. She’ll also follow Lunafreya on her pre-wedding prep session - spa, dress fitting, etc. Basically a behind-the-scenes look prior to the big show. We’re name-dropping a couple of brands here, so that’s why I’m not wearing any underwear.”

Ignis blinked. Slowly, thoughtfully...like a lizard pondering its own existence on a rock. “And that is relevant...how?”

“Just checking to see if you’re listening.”  

He sipped his now-not-so-terrible coffee, for want of something to do. Did he broadcast his thoughts to her somewhat? Was this some extra sensory power that women had - to be able to discern the male psyche with just one look? Or was it just Aranea?

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he said.

“Dunno. You seem a bit distracted, that’s all. Do you still get headaches?” she asked, eyes flitting over to that fresh bandage on his forehead.

“No, it’s fine. Really.”

“All this talk about work is boring, huh? Why don’t we go out for lunch? I _did_ owe you, after all.”

And so it was without any resistance on his part that they both found themselves crammed inside a bustling ramen eatery during peak lunch hour. The clientele were mainly salarymen and women, although there was a young man sitting all by himself in one corner - a musician, by the looks of it, if the guitar case were any indication. Ignis eyed his bleached hair, miscellaneous piercings and rather naughty t-shirt of a man giving a woman cunnilingus and began to wonder when did he get so old that he’d started to disapprove of how youngsters these days were dressing up.

Aranea’s shoulder and arm kept bumping into his. It wasn’t her fault, and he didn’t mind it one bit. Another man had bowed apologetically to her before enquiring about that empty seat next to her. She’d scooched herself sideways to make room.

The waiter was brusque, but efficient. They got their correct orders, and Aranea leaned over, inhaling the smell of her food.

“Oh, this is so _it,_ man,” she said, snapping her chopsticks apart. Then, as if remembering something, she pressed her palms together and intoned: “I humbly receive.” She shrugged when she felt his eyes on her. “What? That’s how you’d do it, right? Told you I’d already considered myself a Lucian. I bet I can tell you the names of all the Lucian kings.”

“Can you now? Then by all means, do regale me with your knowledge.”

She scrunched her eyes as she lightly nibbled the end of her chopsticks. She looked very endearing when she did that. “Ok, I got nothin’,” she admitted sheepishly. “You kids have to learn about all the 100 kings-”

“114. Kings _and_ queens.”

“All 114 at school? That sucks.”

“We only put emphasis on the really outstanding ones. You’d better start learning if you want to be a good Lucian citizen,” he said, a tad playfully.     

“Maybe you could give me private lessons, then,” she said with a wink. Tit for tat. She could play the flirting game all day if needs be.

“Or you could just go online and download the study guide.”

“Dammit, no! Everybody knows that you gotta be in the same study group with the smartest guy in the class if you ever want to get high scores.”

“I’ve an even better idea. You can join the daily Citadel tours and get a crash course. If you’re lucky, they’d even show you all the famous family crests.”

“Yeugh. Pass. Just thinking about it makes me want to go to sleep. You have a family crest, don’t you?”

“Yes. Bestowed upon my great-grandfather. Since then the Scientia and Amicitia family has always been closely tied to the royal Caelums.”

“You should show it to me sometime. What’s it look like?”

“Blue escutcheon-” he hesitated when he saw her confused expression, and translated: “Shield. With a quadrant of caltrops and cherry blossoms. Flanked by antelopes, topped with a crow.”

“Why crow?”

“They’re regarded as battle strategists.”

“Oh. That’s _very_ you.”

“Quite.” Heraldic symbols were one of the earliest things he had to study. He had most of them memorized by heart. He took pride in knowing that he could not only identify major family crests, but also decipher its meaning. Gladiolus felt that this particular skill was brain-dead boring.     

Aranea suddenly spilled broth on herself by accident. He acted on automatic reflex - grabbing a handful of napkins and dabbing her with it.

“You really can’t stop babying people, can you?” she asked, bemused.

He stuttered in his actions, as if he’d finally caught on with what he was doing. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I’d acted out of turn, and I-”

A gentle touch of her hand on his sparked out an entirely different wave of flusters. “Relax. It’s fine. No one’s ever looked out for me like this before.”

It was then he realized that her with a Mutant Chocobo t-shirt, chipped nail polish, and makeup-free face was one of her that he really liked.   

“I ever tell you about the time I worked on a porn film without knowing it?”

“No, you did not.”

“I was 18, I needed the money. Found this company who’d hire people without questions. They needed a film crew, they said. I walked on set thinking that it’d be some awesome big budget thing. It was supposed to be this barn scene. Anyway, the actors arrived and started rehearsing - but then I thought things got really weird when the actress had a strap-on dildo…”

“Oh, dear me…” Ignis muttered.

“So I got hold of the script, and guess what? It was about a nobleman who fell in love with a - haha! - virgin milkmaid. And so the line went something like: _And she, overcome with amorous passions, impaled herself upon his big, throbbing-”_

“Alright, alright...I get the picture.”

She rolled back laughing. “I marched up to the producer, accused him of misleading me, and then just walked off set. I’ve become more discerning with the jobs I pick up ever since.”

“So you’ve basically been freewheeling your way around Lucis since you were eighteen?”

“Yeah. A terrible time...to be that age, and living without any parental supervision. Not like I’d know what the hell that is,” she made a face, eyes peering into the past. There was a strangely haunted look about her, and it was then that he saw the scars she’d carefully kept hidden away from sight.

“Some may envy you. To be afforded that amount of freedom. To not be shackled by the yoke of responsibility.”

“Oh, I was responsible, alright. To myself. Learned that the hard way. Where were you at that time?”

He pondered over this. He was still running around the Citadel halls with Noctis, very much a child in every single aspect - coddled by the safety of the Crown, completely naive to the ways of the world.

“I doubt you would’ve liked me all that much, had we met at that time,” he said with a chuckle.

“Ugh. A crybaby, were you? I hate crybabies.”

“I was rather precocious, actually. Drove my mentors mad with my incessant questions.”

“I would’ve smacked you in the head if I were them.”

“Them? No. You? _Definitely.”_   

She suddenly turned in her seat, extending out her arms towards him and forming a rectangle with her thumbs and forefinger, looking through them as if they’re a camera viewfinder. She scrunched one eye shut as she tried to frame the shot.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking a screenshot,” she said. “Of the new and improved Ignis. Sort of.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, pray tell?”

She merely laughed and stuck her tongue out at him.

He retaliated by paying up for lunch, turning a deaf ear to her protestations.

* * *

 

Wedge squinted at the badly scribbled receipt. Film crew weren’t known for their education, much less their penmanship, and thus he was called upon to decipher the seemingly meaningless squiggles on the petty cash claim forms.

“Travelled to the Quay, stopped for some gas, a pack of smokes, and some wet wipes…? I think the makeup artist asked ‘im to do this run.”

“Yes, but the cigarettes must be a personal purchase, is it not?” said Ignis.

“Well, they’re part and parcel of pretty much everything...yeah? Lady A usually allows it on principal.”

“I’m sorry, how can a pack of cigarettes be a principal?”

“She’d sometimes allow certain things to keep the crew happy. Like getting free donuts, f’rinstance...or beer. It’s like the...grease that keeps the engine running.”

“I don’t understand.”

And Wedge thought: of course he wouldn’t understand. A right toff like him, with his pristine office and expensive cufflinks couldn’t possibly know what it meant to slum it with the crew.

“We tend to work long hours, sometimes in less-than-stellar conditions. Crew gets grumpy, unproductive. So the boss lady gives certain leeway on some things. If the situation permits it, she’d wrap up a shoot early so that the crew could have a free night out. She’d even use her own money to organize wrap parties if the client’s too stingy to provide the budget for it.”

“That’s rather generous of her.”

“Not all the time, mind you. Hell, I remember Clarence - one of our runners - got jumped in the highway and ‘is bike got stolen. Well, Lady A organized a whip around to get ‘im a new one. She put the most money in the pot. Ardyn wasn’t too happy about it. Wanted to dock ‘is pay, even. Well, she put her foot down and tha’s that.”

“You’ve met her when she was very young, have you not?”     

“Known her for sixteen years and counting...back when she’s just a production assistant. Worked her way up all on her own. Never forgets the people ‘oo helps her along the way too.”

Ignis tapped the end of his pen on the table, thoughtfully eyeing Wedge’s earnest, honest face. He eventually got up, walking over to the drinks cabinet. “I...tend to be at a loss when trying to understand her,” he admitted. “She’s too much of a wild card.” He poured out a generous tot of whiskey.

“That’s ‘ow you like yer women, dontcha? Wild and mysterious? Keeps ya on yer toes. Yeah, the crew’s all buzzin’ about you like bees in a hive. Kept talkin’ about Lady A’s gentleman caller. None of ‘em cared much about Ardyn, I can tell you that.” Then, feeling slightly happy that they’re starting to deviate from the boring topic of expenditure receipts, he added: “Rekindling that ol’ flame with the boss lady, aren’t ya?”

Ignis handed the drink over to him. “I do believe that is none of your concern.”

“Yeah, you’re about as awkward as a schoolboy wi’ his first crush. Tha’s what she told me about you.” Wedge took a sip, and made an appreciative sound. This was excellent grade whiskey, brewed straight from the mountains - none of that watered down shit he’d often get in Lestallum.   

Ignis was starting to wonder what else she’s been telling everyone about him. “What do you call that feeling, where there’s so much piling up inside of you, and you want to let it out...but can’t? Because there’s something blocking the way for some reason.”

Wedge gave it some careful thought. “Constipation?”

Ignis pursed his lips. “Well...alright, then. Constipation. _Emotional_ constipation. I suppose I have that.”

“Epsom salt flush always works.”

“What?”

“Or if you go to the doctor, he’d stick a finger up yer anus and-”

“I don’t mean it as a medical condition!”

“Look, yer making it far more complicated than it really is, mate. Lady A, she’s...all lightning and thunder, yeah? She’s tough on her people, makes ‘em put in some extra effort on their work. But deep down inside, she really cares fer all of us. D’you know she fought tooth and nail when Ardyn wanted to fire the entire staff? It’s too short notice, and there’s people whose sole paycheque comes from the company - single parents, folk with health problems an’ the such. And believe me when I say she fights like a mama coeurl whenever she thinks her people are in danger. Which is why meself and the rest of the boys would follow her to hell and back. Any half-arsed twat can be a leader. But a _good_ leader? Now that takes some mad skills. Forget about who’s the bravest and strongest. If you can make tough choices and live with it, if you stand up fer your people, that’s a real dinger. She’s got all that in spades. And that’s her. The _real_ her.”

“What was she like, with Ardyn?” He hated the question, because he’s going to hate the answer. But he still needed to know.

Already he could see the guarded expression fall on Wedge’s face. The man was clearly in two minds about this; torn between his staunch loyalty to his boss and his incessant need to gossip. That and the fact that the drink was making him feel particularly generous with information. Ignis would’ve offered him a cigar - he’d seemed like a cigar man - but he needed more careful research to find out what brand Wedge liked.  

“Surely a man with your experience and gravitas should be able to provide further insight with regards to Aranea. You have, after all, known her for far longer than I do. Would you indulge my ignorance for a moment?”  

It was bullshit, but it was classy bullshit...and the word ‘gravitas’ perched at the top like a glistening cherry may be a smidge overdone, and frankly Ignis wasn’t sure whether it’d work.

Swirling his drink inside the glass, Wedge seemed like he’d come to a decision. “He never cheats on her. Never raised a hand against her. But then again, there’s thousands other ways to hurt someone where you can’t see, innit? And he hurts her plenty. Bought her shiny baubles from whatever forsaken corner of the world he’s been in to make up fer it, but she’d have none of that. Doesn’t erase the fact that he’s pretty much absent most of the time. And controlling. And a compulsive liar. Kept forgetting their wedding anniversary, and the boss lady kept tellin’ me she’s leaving, but then he pops back in and whisks her off to some romantic whatever, and tha’s that.”

He’s skating the details - Ignis could tell. Drawing out a basic shape and colouring in within the lines, throwing in snippets of information that may sound important, but really wasn’t useful nor specific enough. He’d personally pulled that trick on Noctis sometimes.

“Yer probably askin’ how she managed to stay as long as she did with him. Well, honestly I’ve no idea. Maybe she still wants to keep trying. Maybe despite everything else, the shagging was earth-shatteringly fantastic. I dunno. Your guess is as good as mine. I can tell you this much about Ardyn, though. He’s got a real knack at building you up, and then tearing you back down again. He enjoys it. He doesn’t give a toss about yer feelings, or what ya think about him. He just does it ‘cos he can.” The last sentence was drowned into the glass as Wedge took a sip: “Personally seen ‘im do it to Julian once.”

“What was that? What did he do?”

Wedge half-shrugged, as if indicating that the discussion was over. “Look: the boss lady don’t tolerate no bullshit. Just give it to her straight, and she’ll appreciate you for it. You obviously have no problem with that. You two get along like a house on fire, an’ I know she likes you a lot. You got any questions, just ask her. She may not give you a real answer straightaway, but she will eventually.”

“Yes, that’s the whole issue, isn’t it? Her tendency to avoid things that really matters? Personal-wise.”

Wedge beamed. “Yeah. Admit it - tha’s what you like about her, no?”

* * *

 

After some exhaustive introspection, Aranea finally said: “I think peaches are the most erotic fruit there ever was.”

“Oh, yeah? And why is that?” said Prompto.

“On the outside they look like miniature butts. But on the inside...well. That’s an entirely different world altogether. You ever looked at half peaches and think they’re like vaginas?”

“No. But since you’ve mentioned that, I can never look at a peach the same way again.”

They’d finally gone on their titular night out, hitting a sushi restaurant for starters, followed by drinks at the bar. Since Prompto had promised her an experience that’s uniquely Insomnian, he’d dragged her to a pachinko parlour and even - for some weird reason - a host club where they spent the next hour and a half singing karaoke and playing card games with a prince type host. Aranea had picked for herself the cool, silent type who’d engaged her in polite conversation and daintily drank tea with his pinky sticking out...much like someone she knew, although for the life of her she couldn’t recall who. Maybe she just had a secret thing for nerds. It’s the glasses. She was sure of it.

Needless to say, by the time they tottered back to Prompto’s place, they were already rip roaring drunk. They sat in his room, staring at the lava lamp as if it was the most bloody interesting thing in the whole wide world. There was just something about the way the bubbles forming at the bottom before breaking off to float to the top that sparked intellectual thought - most particularly the sexual connotation of peaches.

“Aranea…”

“Yeah?”

“Julian...needs a dad, right? I mean a real one. Not that stinking butthole Ardyn.”

“U-huh.”

“Well-” Prompto blinked rapidly as if he was trying real hard to focus. “I can be one. Dad, I mean. I can help take care of him. I know I’m gonna love him. I love _you..._ but it’s more of a sister thing. Still - I’m pretty sure it could work out.” To emphasize his point, he puffed up his pigeon chest. It must be the tequila and Jägerbombs talking, and everybody knew that ideas you get at 2am while you were hammered is always a goddamn good one.

Aranea stared at him with a look of abject adoration. “Aw, you sweet lil’ chocobo chick. C’mere, you!” She hugged him. He hugged her back. “I love you too. You know that, right?”

“Let’s commeme-comm-commmmemmorate this moment!” he hooted, taking out his phone and recorded a short video of himself and Aranea saying how much they’re enjoying themselves. Although the end result was a series of jumbled slurrings, followed by something that went along the lines of: “Fwah fwah squiddly chump!”

In his mindless fumblings, Prompto unknowingly sent the video to his hairdresser.

“Let’s get some more drinks here!” Aranea shouted.

“Hang on...I got beer,” said Prompto, getting up and disappearing into the kitchen.

She collapsed onto his bed with a happy sigh. Then, as if hit by a sudden thought, got up and started to slide her hands beneath the mattress. By the time Prompto got back into the room, she was going through his hidden stash of Bunny Playmates. He almost dropped the beer bottles.

“Hey! That’s private!”

She pointed at the centre spread of Miss September, sprawling amidst a pile of animal fur, sucking on a cherry lollipop while giving a very lascivious look towards the camera. “Met her once. She wasn’t very nice. Touched her boob, though. Completely by accident.” She caught his embarrassed look, and added: “Aw, relax, man. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I’ve got an autographed poster of her. Won it from a card game. You can have it if you want.”

“Dude, that’s still not cool...going through another dude’s stash,” he said, swooping down to gather the incriminating materials, cheeks burning red.

She laughed and leaned back in the bed. “Okay, so what do you wanna do? Play Donkey Kong till 4?”

“I thought that maybe we could just chill out and talk. Y’know?”

“Talk? Yeah, sure. We can do that.”

They wound up talking while watching the television with the sound muted. They chugged their beers as the infomercials played on. The remote was missing, and they couldn’t be assed to get up to manually switch the channels, so they chatted about everything and anything while a demonstration of an iRobot Roomba™ was happening.  

“Hey, d’you think this’d make a good wedding gift for Noctis and Luna?” she asked, interrupting Prompto’s nostalgic spiel about the latest gaming system.

He squinted towards the screen. “A vacuum cleaner? Nah, I don’t think so. I mean, they’ve got like, a gajillion servants doing the cleaning.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot about that. What about assless pants?”

“Ass-what?”

“Assless pants. Pants without asses. So you wear it and your ass literally sticks out.”

“What about it?”

“For a wedding gift. Then we forge Ignis's signature and make it seem like it’s from him.”

Prompto made a face. “Yeugh, I don’t think Noct’s gonna fall for that. And besides - I think it’s a capital punishment to forge a royal minister’s signature. Know what might work, though?”

“What?”

“Swarovski crystals. Like, tons of ‘em. A complete set of Eos wildlife, or...or a chess set. Oooh! Or a diorama of the Six. Something classy, y’know. Something that oozes prestige, and...and-”

“A truckload of gils,” she sighed. Ardyn had that diorama collection in his study. He found them amusing, particularly Ifrit. She now regretted not smashing it to bits before she got kicked out of the house. “You happen to have any of that lying around? A trust fund, maybe? Or a family heirloom?”

“Pfft. Do I _look_ like I have any of those things?” He yawned. “I’m pretty beat. I should get you an Uber. Or you’re welcome to crash here if you want.”  

“Yeah, I’m picking door number 2, ‘coz I don’t think I can get my butt to move.”

“Suit yourself.”

She smiled as she watched him slumped at his end of the couch, already drifting off. She slid down, creeping along the floor until she’s sitting cross-legged before him. For a moment she studied his bangs, now falling across his freckled nose. She took another swig of beer and gently prodded his arm.

“Hey, Prompto. You asleep yet?”

“Mmph.”

“You really mean it about being Julian’s dad?”

“Mrmph…”

“Thing is, he’s not actually Ardyn’s.”

“Meh…?”

She bit her lip. She felt like she was in a confessional, spilling her deepest, darkest secrets to the priest. The kind of secret she’s keeping, however, would probably earn her a front seat on the rollercoaster to hell. One way, no stops. But then she thought: _what the hey?_ Prompto’s a good friend, and friends share things with each other...right? And besides, he’s so sloshed that he’d probably forget about it the next morning.  

“His real dad is...” She leaned in closer and whispered a name to him.

* * *

 

**Question: What kind of porn Ignis likes, and where would he hide it?**

**\--o--**

**Next episode: The truth is revealed. Someone gets delivered a ground-shaking news.**


	10. Fooled Around + Fell in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis discovers his son, and Julian discovers he's not wanted in Gralea.

The copier was jammed. Again.

Ignis let out a long suffering sigh, hunkering down to open the paper tray panel. He peered up into the underbelly of the infernal machine, and sure enough, a piece of paper was mangled up in the rollers. He reached in gingerly, feeling the heat of circuitry on his hand, and tried to pull out the offending paper. It refused to budge.

His second attempt faltered when Prompto suddenly burst into the office.

“Ah, Prompto. Some may consider that knocking is-”

“You slimy bastard!”

“Excuse me?”

“Aranea’s kid...is _yours?!”_

“What the devil are you blabbering about?” Ignis demanded, jammed copier all forgotten. He hurriedly got to his feet.

Prompto was pacing before him. His eyes looked bloodshot, and his hair seemed more unkempt than usual. There was a sour stink of stale beer in his breath.

“Are you hungover?”

“Oh, I’ll hang _your_ stupid ass,” Prompto snapped. “Aranea told me that you’re her kid’s dad. I figured she was kidding, but then it all made sense. We all saw his photo, and everyone thought that he looked _just_ like you!”

Ignis realized that his mouth was open. This was sensational news indeed, one which could trigger unnecessary panic. So he retreated to the only avenue he was familiar with: logic. “Come now, it’s only a mere coincidence that-”

“You knocked her up. Don’t even bother denying it. That kid went through six years without knowing who his real father is, so what’re you gonna do about it? Huh? You gonna cut and run like before? I didn’t think _you_ of all people would do something like that! It’s gotta be the lowest, most disgusting thing anyone could ever _\- aaaaaah!!!! Don’t kill me!”_

The last bit ended in a high-pitched squeal. Ignis had lost his patience and grabbed Prompto by the front of his shirt.

“Pull yourself together, man,” Ignis growled. “Go home, take a shower. Make yourself presentable again.” He released Prompto.

“Wh-what’re you gonna do?” Prompto asked, watching Ignis gather his suit jacket.

“To sort this thing out,” he curtly said, marching out of the office.

* * *

Aranea opened the door to a visibly indignant Ignis. He’d wasted no time on preamble.

“Julian’s _my_ son?” he gritted out, marching inside without so much as an invitation.

“And good morning to you too,” she said, closing the door again. “Coffee?”

He impatiently waved the offer away and resumed his line of questioning. “Is it true?”

Aranea scoffed, “Of _course_ not! Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Prompto told me that-”

“Immaculate conception,” she interrupted loudly, while making a personal note to kill Prompto for being such a shitty secret keeper. “God says ‘Lo!’ And thusly a parasitic alien worm was conceived within. I heard that’s quite big in some sacred doctrines.”

“This is serious, Aranea. We should really discuss this!”

“What’s there to discuss? You’re a sperm donor, and that’s that-”

“So you _do_ admit that it’s true!”

“Look - if you’re worried about money, then relax. I’m not gonna ask you for any. I’m not even gonna ask you to spend time with him or buy him birthday presents. You don’t have to be a part of this.”

“I should like to be the one to decide that, thank you very much.”

He walked into the living room, sat down on the sofa, and looked at her expectantly.

“What?” she asked.

“Tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to-”

“Aranea.” His voice had taken a particularly hard edge, and there was a flinty look in his eyes which indicated that he’s going to get answers right now, by hook or by crook. This unexpected change in him frightened - and quite frankly - excited her. She immediately felt embarrassed for getting turned on now of all times.

She sighed. “Alright. Fine.” She plonked herself onto an armchair. “What do you want to know?”

“Every. Thing. Spare me no details.”

“You want the beginning? Ok, let’s start with Vesperpool.” She took a moment to collect her thoughts, and then began: “Six weeks after that, I found out I was pregnant. Ardyn was thrilled. He’d always wanted a kid. Goodness knows we’ve been trying for years. But when Julian was born, I _knew_ something wasn’t right. Like there’s some small detail that I’m missing.” She paused, chewing on her lower lip. “His name was Argo at first. Ardyn’s idea, even though I hated it. Sounded like something agricultural. Now, Argo was a lot of trouble from the get go. He started falling sick, I had problems nursing him, and he’d kept getting in and out of hospitals...really, it was a terrible period for me at that time. Then someone suggested that I change his name. It was an old superstition - and I don’t believe in superstitions - but by then I was so desperate to try anything. So I picked Julian, and lo and behold! He’s not sick anymore. Pretty amazing, huh?”

“What tipped you off that Julian wasn’t Ardyn’s?”

“The fact that he looked _nothing_ like Ardyn’s a big giveaway, don’t you think? Sure, people could say that he takes after me, but even _I_ know that can’t be true. Plus, I slept with two men in less than 24 hours. That’s a red flag right there. I had a paternity test done, and Ardyn’s not the father. He found out, loses his shit, and he’s been giving me and Julian hell ever since. Kept asking me whose it was. I never told him. He just assumes that I had a gangbang with a group of truckers in a pitstop somewhere.”

“That night at the camp. You told me you were on birth control.”

“I didn’t actually _say_ that I was. You just filled in the blanks yourself. Listen-” she hurriedly added when he gave her an angry look. “Back then I thought I was...safe, y’know?”

“No. I do not know.”

“Can we just focus on the fact that Julian now exists and that’s that? It’ll take forever to discuss the semantics of my ovulation cycle with _you_ of all people.”

“You’ve used me.”

“No, I did not!”  

“I’m just your tool for revenge, the second fiddle you fully intend to discard afterwards. You withheld the fact that you’re married. Our...encounter was a farce. You felt nothing about me.”

“Would you have agreed to see me if I said I was married?”

“Of _course_ not!”

“There you go, then.”

“No, do _not_ turn this against me.” It was amazing how the subtlest inflection in his voice completely shut down whatever retort she had lined up. That hard edge was back, superseded by the stern glint in his eyes. He was prepared to fight her, word for word, should she choose to say anything snappish at this point. A war of rhetorics was the last thing that she’d want to get into with him right now. “You were deceptive, you were selfish, and you were insensitive. You’re the jilted wife...I can understand that. I would’ve even empathised, had you chosen to disclose your situation with me beforehand. But that does not give you the right to treat other people the same way Ardyn treated you!”

His tirade ended, and he still sat stiffly, subjecting her to a glare that accused her of witchcraft. She was Judas. She was Jezebel. And she was Brutus. She deserved to be burned at the stake.  

“I’m sorry.”

The words hung in the air, a crystallised entreaty for penance and forgiveness.  

“I’m an asshole,” she went on. “I’m a major screw up. I can apologize right now, everyday for the rest of my life, and I know it’s still not enough. You can hate me all you want, and I’ll take it. But you were wrong. I _did_ feel something. I barely know you, but I still like you. I mean, who _cares_ if people say you’re scary or boring? People say a lot of shit because they're too gutless to be themselves. But not you.” She stared at him, repeating herself in a plaintive whisper: “I’m sorry.”

He sighed, telling himself that he could get upset later. For now, he needed to know one more thing.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What would you _really_ have done? Huh? March up to Ardyn and say: ‘So hey, I kinda slept with your wife’? He’s already made my life a living hell. What d’you think he’s gonna do to you? Lucis’s high-ranking royal advisor, knocking up his wife. Ooh, Ardyn’s gonna have a _field_ day if he finds out.”

“So you’re doing it out of nobility then?” Ignis said bitterly. “Protecting me? Why, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Yes. That might be a strange concept, me having any sense of decency and selflessness. But yeah, I did it. Ardyn would politicize this if he had to. He’s the...the kid with a magnifying glass, frying ants by the roadside. That’s what he does best: hurting people left, right and centre simply because he can."

“If you hadn’t told Prompto, I wouldn't have known. Forever! I mean, everyone had their suspicions, but not me. I refused to believe it because-” he broke off, suddenly at a loss for words.

“Because what?”

He hesitated. He wasn’t used to baring his soul. It rebels against his better nature. It made him feel like a peeled lobster - uncomfortable, frightened and very, very vulnerable. “Because then it would give me hope,” he said. Each word sounded like they came from someone else. “That maybe...maybe we still have a chance together. To rebuild something that was barely there. Maybe I was hoping that you’re not merely a footnote, but an entire saga that fills the rest of my life.”

Silence, as the true weight of what he said finally fell upon Aranea.

“I’ve disappointed you far too many times, haven’t I?” she said quietly.

He said nothing. Sometimes it was the best answer.

“Ignis, I’m not the leading lady in your story. At least, not in the way that you’d like to be. I’m the girl your mom warned you about. I’m a messed-up compulsive liar. I can’t be anything else, and I’m not gonna apologise for that. Does it seem wrong for not telling you all this while? Hell, yes. Is it wrong of me to lie to protect you and Julian? No. And I’d do it a hundred times if I have to. You want to crucify me for that? Go ahead. I still think I made the right call.”

Between a rock and a hard place. That’s where she was at. Would he have done the same thing if he was in her shoes? Probably. Probably not. Once again he found himself wondering why he’d chosen to get himself tangled with someone as emotionally complex as Aranea. There’s an entire roster of daughters from noble families he could pick from, but even Gladiolus had lamented the fact that no simple girl would cut it for Ignis. He was too discerning, too _fussy._ He’s not interested in women who could pick perfect colour swatches for their living room. By golly, he needed a woman who’d strive to make his life as difficult as humanly possible. Oh, the irony of it.  

“Julian. What’s he...what is he like?”

“He likes monsters. Well, he enjoys reading about ‘em, and learning about gadgets. I’m betting Prompto would love to teach him a thing or two. Kids at his old school were mean to him, though. Called him a weirdo. One time they locked him in the bathroom for an hour until the teacher came to get him.”

“It’s amazing just how much cruelty and prejudice can be passed down to a child,” Ignis murmured. “I do hope the culprits have been justly punished?”

“Ardyn came to the school and threw his weight around. At least that’s something he's _really_ good at. Nobody bothered Julian ever since...but that also meant he had no friends.”

“Show me his picture.”

Wordlessly, she produced her phone and began fiddling with it. She then passed it to him.

He’d mentally steeled himself for this moment, but nothing...absolutely nothing, could prepare him for it. He stared at eyes that were too much like him, and a nose that was a trademark Scientia feature. The boy had Aranea’s smile - thank goodness - and her face shape. His brows could be doomed to have a permanent frown like Ignis’s during his much later years, and suddenly Ignis had this overwhelming need to protect him from all sorts of worries in the world. No man should be allowed to shoulder the burdens he had...especially Julian. He handed the phone back to Aranea.

“I must admit that all of this is still completely strange to me,” he said.

“I know what you mean. Which is why I don’t expect you to do anything you don’t want to do. If you don’t want to see him, it’s fine. Soon as this job is finished, I’ll go. Me and him will be out of your life forever.”

He looked at her scornfully. “How lowly do you think of me? Prompto had already raised hell at my office just now over my perceived transgression.”

“He did what?”

He got to his feet. “I am going to think about this some more,” he announced.

Aranea’s mouth dropped open. “Wha-?”

“We shall talk about this again.”

“But I-”

“We shall talk about this again, Aranea,” he repeated in firmer tones.

With that, he left.

* * *

 “That’s just Iggy’s style, y’know. He hates loose ends,” said Prompto.

“You mean, he’ll send hitmen to kill me?”

“Nooooo! Are you nuts? Of _course_ he wouldn’t do that! What I mean is, he’d feel honour-bound to have you and Julian taken care of. There’s no two ways about it. So I say you accept whatever help he’s giving you...and if it’s money and you don’t want it, then donate to charity or something. Seriously, the stuff he does for you is really his way of saying ‘I love you’. He’s not so big on the PDAs and verbal mushy stuff. But he’s still one big carebear, make no mistake about that.”

Aranea stared at the monitor screen, frozen in mid-playback. Prompto had come over to watch the video’s rough edits. “Yeah, I’ve pretty much figured that out by myself. Speaking of carebear-”

 _“Ow!_ What gives?!” She had punched him in the arm.

“That’s for being a shitty secret keeper. If you hadn’t blabbed, he wouldn’t have found out.”

“You never actually _said_ it was a secret. And besides, I think he’s got every right to know.”

She sighed. “You got me there. But it’s what happens afterward that worries me.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“He’s gonna try to fix this...like you said. But he’s already running around cleaning other people’s asses, so I don’t want to add to his problems. I-I already told him he shouldn’t get involved.”

“And? What did he say?”

“He said he’ll think about it.”

“At least try to consider what _he_ wants...okay? You ever told Julian about him?”

“What, the truth? Hell, no. He’d already been rejected by one man. If Ignis rejects him too, he’ll be devastated.”

“Yeaahhhh….no. He’s got too much of a mommy complex to do that. He’s going to make things right, I just _know_ it. And besides, he’s experiencing empty nest syndrome. Noct’s all grown up and shit, so if there’s another kid that he could baby and spoil the heck outta of, then it’d be his recently-discovered progeny.” Prompto sighed. “Julian’s one lucky kid.”  

“It’s not that simple, Prompto. You don’t just...make room for someone you barely know. If I were him, I’d be scared shitless. Hell, I think _Julian_ would be scared shitless. It’s a major adjustment, and I don’t expect them both to do it overnight.”

“And you shouldn’t,” Prompto agreed. “Look, why don’t you guys take it slow, keep it simple? Baby first steps, y’know? First, just arrange a meeting. Something casual, no pressure. Just let them both get a feel out of each other. Then maybe afterwards, you guys could do something that Julian likes - like going to an amusement park or whatever - make him feel comfortable and also give Iggy a chance to get to know him better.” He nodded and repeated himself: “Baby steps. Ya gotta learn to walk before you fly.”

“Nice. Didja get that out of a fortune cookie or something?” she said dryly.    

“I’m just sayin’ that it’s nice to have a dad that wants to know you.”

She caught the wistfulness in his voice, and a sneaky suspicion tiptoed in. “How’s your dad?”

“He’s fine. Busy as always-”

“No. I mean, your _real_ dad.”

“Oh. Hell if I know.” He ducked his head, conveniently hiding his eyes with his bangs. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “Already forgot I have one,” he mumbled.

“Bullshit. So...what - no phone call, no e-mail, nothing?”

“I no longer matter, remember?”

She recalled meeting Verstael many years ago, at one of those annual company parties which Ardyn insisted on dragging her along to. The man struck her as somewhat...singular-minded, enthusiastically talking to her about his work. It never occurred to her that he had a family - he’d seemed far too dedicated with his research to even consider anything else.

She snickered. “Look at us shitty losers. Daddy issues, hah! Let’s have our own pity party.”

“I thought you hate pity parties.”

“For you? I’d make an exception.”

“But we’ve already partied last night.”

“So? We can still do it again.”

“No, y’know what? The next time we party, I want Julian to join us. Wouldn’t that be awesome?”   

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be?” said Aranea, although her voice lacked enthusiasm. She glanced back at the monitor, her mind entirely focused on something else.

She sighed.

* * *

 There’s a storybook called ‘Kupo’s Happy Family’ which confused Julian greatly.

It talked about a Moogle family, and how each family member functioned. The pictures even showed how much they loved and cared for each other. Aranea had thought to herself that it was a load of brainless saccharine bullshit meant to scam children, but she’d bought it anyway because she figured that he might like it. Plus, it’s the perfect thing to get him started on his reading skills.

According to the book, Kupo was the eldest son, and he had a younger brother named Gumo. They often fought with each other, as any other sibling in a pseudo-functional family was wont to do...but they still played together and shared their things. Now, Julian had no brother, so he had no idea what it’s like. He wondered if he could request his mother for one, just to see how fun it is to catch frogs in the garden, because that’s what Kupo and Gumo did.

Kupo’s mother was very kind and enjoys knitting. Julian had _never_ seen his mother knit anything. She swears a lot, and he had to keep reminding her that she swore a lot. She enjoys making jokes, and most importantly of all: she loves him very, very much. She made a point to say that to him everyday. But now that she’s not there, he began to miss her more and more. So much so that he’d get all choked up and he can’t breathe. He’d then hide in his room for a while and wait until the tears had dried and his eyes were no longer puffy. In all honesty, he hated his room in Gralea. Ardyn had strove to fill it with the best and latest toys a boy could possibly want, but he’s forgetting that one all-important element that Julian needed the most, and that was Aranea.

Kupo’s father collects gadgets and loves to tinker with them in his basement garage. Everyday he’d cook breakfast for the whole family. His specialties are heart-shaped pancakes and strawberry milkshakes. On weekends, he’d take the boys to the park to play catch.

Julian’s father never did any of that.

He had a great many gadgets, though - giant airships and strange metal men who can walk and fight on their own. Julian had seen one come alive, and it scared the living hell out of him. Ardyn never cooked anything for him...not even a simple toast. They’d sit together for meals at the impossibly long dining table - Ardyn at one end, while Julian in the other - because that’s how Ardyn preferred to see Julian. Always at a distance. He’d stare at the boy, wine glass tipped casually in one hand, and then smirkingly made disparaging remarks about Aranea.

For example, one day he said: “You wet your bed again last night.”  

Julian dropped his spoon. It clattered loudly onto the plate. Edna had caught him trying to stuff the sodden sheets inside the cupboard, too afraid to let anyone know.

“How many times was it this week? The fourth? My, my. A bit too old to be suffering from bladder incontinence, are we?”

Eyes lowered onto the tablecloth, Julian murmured: “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“You’d better make sure that it doesn’t. Men don’t wet their trousers. Little boys do. Cowardly little boys. Are you going to remain a boy your entire life? Do I need to make you wear diapers again? I don’t think they have one your size.”

Julian numbly shook his head. It was humiliating, being inferred to as a baby.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. One week in military school will sort you right out. I think it’s funny...you growing up to become a soldier, sent off to kill silly little Lucians...and quite possibly your real father too, whoever he is. Oh, what a deliciously cruel turn of events. I really do hope that I’d be there to witness it all,” said Ardyn, chuckling delightedly as if he was enjoying an excellent joke.

“But you’re my-”

“I’m _not_ your father.” That statement was like a whipcrack, lashing across the distance between them and striking Julian, leaving an invisible mark. Ardyn was still smiling, but all traces of mirth were gone. There was a manic glint in his eyes as he contemplated the magnitude of cruelty he could inflict through the boy. It was almost poetic - the concept of patricide. Satisfying justice, even. Aranea had done it out of spite, laying with another man. It amazed him how much he felt betrayed by it. He loved her. He loved her indomitable spirit, how she’d rebuffed his attempts to control her. Unlike everything else in his life that was broken, she’d remained defiant. And he’d missed that the most with her absence.

He got up and strolled over towards Julian, finally closing that gap he’d carefully maintained between them. He touched the boy’s face, gently tilting it up so that they could look at each other. He smiled a warm, tender smile as he said:

“Your mother’s never coming back for you, you know.”

It was a trifling victory, seeing Julian’s devastated face. Ardyn’s destroying whatever small world the boy had constructed around himself, and it gave him such great pleasure.

“If she really cared, she would’ve been here by now. But where is she?”

“That’s not true,” Julian quavered, voice tight with overwhelming emotion. “She promised that she’d-”

“Ah, well...promises. They’re as flimsy as spiderwebs, aren’t they? So pretty to look at, so easily broken.”

Julian was rapidly blinking his eyes, valiantly fighting back the tears that had threatened to spring up. He wished that Ardyn would let him go so that he could look away.

“Do not cry, darling boy. Tears are always wasted, and they’re only for the weak. You can hate your mother all you want. It was, after all, because of her that you ended up like this.”

That night as Julian crawled into bed, he found out that Edna had put down a layer of plastic sheet beneath the covers. It was crackly and uncomfortable, and he hated the sound they made everytime he tossed and turned. Eventually he took out ‘Kupo’s Happy Family’ to distract himself. He flipped through the pages and came upon the part where Kupo spoke about his grandfather.

Kupo’s grandfather was a jolly old Moogle who enjoys bringing presents whenever he visited the boys. He’d even magically pull out crisp gil notes out of Kupo’s ear, winking at him as he said not to tell his parents. He likes to tell funny stories about himself when he was a boy, making Kupo and Gumo laugh everytime.

Julian’s grandfather was nowhere _near_ as jolly. He’s an army general, according to Edna, and the next day, Ardyn had brought him to see the man.  

His name was Caligo Ulldor, and he terrified Julian the moment he laid eyes on him. Caligo had a dour expression, made even more sour when he saw Ardyn.

“General Ulldor,” said Ardyn, honeyed delight dripping out of every syllable of his name. It’s almost as if Caligo was a giant birthday present he couldn’t wait to rip apart.

“What do you want, Izunia?” he gritted out. Julian had never seen breastplates that shone as brightly as his. He’d obviously had it polished rigorously every single day. “Into young boys now, are we? I didn’t think that you’d be _that_ depraved.”

“What utter nonsense, Caligo!” Ardyn laughed. “Aren’t you _glad_ I no longer have to address you as ‘father’? Such an awkward business that was.”

“I’d rather witness a live disembowelling than hear you trip over that word.”

“I’ve never pegged you as someone with a sense of humour, but here you are...making jokes within a span of two minutes. But I digress. Allow me to introduce to you Julian, your grandson. Isn’t it _nice,_ discovering that you have one?”

Caligo’s eyes flitted from Julian, then back up to Ardyn. “I _told_ you I don’t ever want to see him!” he snapped. “I do not acknowledge his existence, much less your so-called marriage!”

“How awful! His mother _is_ your daughter, you know.”

“And his father? A Lucian. Some lowly commoner she’d met by the roadside, I reckon. I cannot believe you’d actually let her get away with it. This... _thing-”_ he looked down at Julian at this point, disdain etched on every single line of his face. “Is an abomination. A half-breed. A half-breed _vermin._ I would’ve turned it loose on the streets the first chance I’ve got.”

“Now, now...you’re hurting the boy’s feelings. And he’d come all this way to see you too!”

“I’d rather he never bothered.”

Ardyn gently nudged Julian in the back. “Go on, say hello. Show that you have some manners.”

Julian hesitatingly took a few steps towards Caligo. The older man emanated anger and resentment like a furnace, and it didn’t help matters that he seemed like he was coiled to strike the boy at any time.

Holding up a hand for a handshake, Julian quavered: “H-how do you do? I’m Julian.”

Caligo refused to touch him. He glared at Julian as if he was some disgusting thing stuck at the sole of his boot.

“Stand up straight, boy!” he snarled. “Your posture is atrocious! You’re sending _this_ to the academy?” The last part was directed at Ardyn. “Don’t embarrass yourself. He’ll never make it alive on the first day.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t underestimate him just yet. Children do all sorts of amazing things, provided they are given the right motivation. And besides, his mother’s spirit is somewhere in there. It’s only a matter of willing it out. Imagine how glorious it would be once he realizes his true potential.”

“This one? He’ll be spending the rest of his life cleaning latrines if I had anything to say about it. Which I actually do.” Caligo leaned over towards Julian. “Do you understand me, boy? You are _nothing._ And you will always be nothing. Save yourself a lot of trouble and put that inside your stupid little head right now.”   

And Julian thought, during the ride back to the house, why was he nothing? Was he really not that important? Would it make everyone feel better if he’d just disappeared? Everyone seemed to be either angry or upset just from seeing him. What did he do to provoke such a reaction? ‘Kupo’s Happy Family’ never provided any answers about that, and that made him even more confused. And when he was confused, he got angry.

Chest finally bursting with rage, he stormed up to his room the moment he got back, hunted for that stupid ‘Kupo’s Happy Family’, and once he’d found it, flopped onto the carpet and started tearing out the pages.

“Lies. Lies, lies, lies!” he cried out. The whole book was a lie!

Small fingers clawed at the paper, yanking it out by fistfuls. Shreds of brightly coloured illustration began to fly in the air, falling back onto the ground with nary a whisper, punctuated by his heavy breathing and the deafening tempest of his six-year-old heart breaking into a million little pieces.

_Rrrriiipp!_

There goes the page about Kupo’s grandfather.

Julian’s grandfather was nothing like that.

_Rrrriiipp!_

There goes the page about Kupo’s father.

Julian’s father was _nothing_ like that.

_Rrrriiipp!_

_Rrrriiipp!_

He’d finally reached the front page, and something there gave him reason to pause.

Aranea had written out: _Hey, kid. Maybe we’ll have our own Moogle family someday. XOXO always._ She’d sketched out a bird at the bottom - her trademark. Aranea Highwind - forever a bird, forever free.

His mother had flown away, and he’s all alone in a place where no one wanted him.

Edna had clattered in to witness the mess he’d made. “Julian, what have you done?!” she’d exclaimed.

“I want my mom,” he said plaintively, voice now trembling. “I want her here. _Now.”_  

As if thoughts of his mother had been hardwired to a deep reservoir of sorrow, he began to weep. His face crumpled, big fat tears sprung from his eyes, and his mouth opened until it was a square black hole. At first he was only a silent effigy of despair; but then the lamentation came afterwards, long and sustained until the whole room shook with his wails.

Edna gathered him up in her arms and rocked him gently, weathering out the storm as she ran a soothing hand up and down his back. He cried and cried until he was too tired to cry anymore. Eventually - and it was a long eventually - he fell asleep.

It broke her to see him like this. There’s already a darkness permanently etched in his soul because he’d seen and felt far too much pain and despair at such a young age. She could only hope that one day he would grow up and use that darkness to teach him about kindness, and empathy. For he of all people knew exactly how it felt like to be reduced to a mere nothing.

* * *

**Next episode: How Aranea lost her son.**


	11. You Wiped My Heart with Your Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea questions her own existence as she prepares herself for a meeting with the lawyer. Ignis gets a phone call from someone very unexpected.

**Warning: Mentions of postpartum depression.**

* * *

 

The park was deserted at this hour, save for a group of mothers on a playdate. Their children were running around in the playground while the mothers sat together and talked. Aranea deliberately took a seat near them, letting snippets of their conversation reach her as she observed the children. 

“So now we’re all on this gluten-free diet-”

“-we had this super intense spiritual experience. I mean, it was during our vacation near the Rock of Ravatogh, and there was this spa over at-”

“-wouldn’t stop breastfeeding her even when she’s already six. Seriously, that’s gonna cause a  _ lot _ of problems in the long run, mark my words…”

“I dozed off during sex last night. And the funny thing was, he didn’t even notice…”

“Y’know what you should do? Set aside a specific time for it. Like what me and my husband did. Every Thursday, 9pm. Boom. Clothes off, ready to go.”

Aranea snickered at this. All hail the tedium of scheduled sex. That was one thing she was glad she could do without. She leaned back, watching the blue sky through the canopy of trees. Her armpits were beginning to sweat beneath her suit jacket, and she made to take it off when she noticed a sharp decline of chatter from the ladies. She craned her neck to see what was going on, and then caught sight of the figure walking through the park’s main gates. 

Ignis.

Aranea’s mouth twisted into an irritated moue. He strode through the pathway, looking for her...seemingly oblivious to the way the ladies were eyeing him like he was a tall glass of refreshing drink. By some grace of the Six, a shaft of sunlight had burst through the clouds and shone onto him, throwing his chiseled jawline and nose into sharp profile. 

_ Of fucking course,  _ Aranea bitterly thought. All he had to do was look like he’d stepped out of a goddamn GQ front cover. He didn’t have to worry about Spanx underwear, or cellulite, or even varicose veins. She’d been dealing with those ever since she had Julian. Seems to her she had the bum end of the deal the moment she’d hopped onto the motherhood express train. Maybe she really  _ should _ get him to take on most of the responsibility - since he  _ did _ owe it to her in some way. 

He finally spotted her, and made his way towards her. “You’ve chosen a rather peculiar place to meet,” he remarked, one eyebrow cocked. 

“Would you rather me pick some dodgy back alley?” she scoffed. “Guy like you’d be mugged within seconds. You’ve got yourself some groupies, by the way.” 

“What?”

She tilted her head towards the general direction of the mothers. “Fangirls. Or rather - fan ladies.” 

He spared them the barest of glances before making a dismissive motion with one hand. Wordlessly, he pointed towards the newspaper next to her. She shrugged, indifferent.

He sat down, taking the newspaper and unfolding it. It was one of those tabloid rags, obtained cheaply from a roadside vendor. Ardyn’s picture was on the front page, head bowed down as if in remorse. The headline said, in big blocky letters: ‘I STILL LOVE MY WIFE’. 

“Can you believe that shit?” Aranea scoffed. “He’s trying to undermine my work with you guys.” 

“I don’t see how-”

“Check paragraph three. Right after that part where he says the divorce was regrettable. They’re sayin’ I’m responsible for promoting the royal wedding. Word like that gets out and people will begin to wonder what I’m doing here instead of running back to my loving husband’s arms. This right here, is a PR smear tactic. A soft one, mind you. He’s poking us, trying to see what we’ll do.”

“Oh, come now. Surely this trite nonsense can’t  _ possibly  _ be taken seriously by anyone!”    

“They’ll spin this. The possible narratives they could think out of this is  _ endless!  _ They’ll say shit like how Lucis has brainwashed Imperial citizens into joining their cause. They’ll start to question Noct’s leadership qualities. Soon they’ll drag Lunafreya into this mess, and it’s all Lucis vs. Niflheim all over again.” 

“Who is this ‘they’ you keep referring to?”

“Spin doctors. PR officers. Take your pick. Niflheim’s got an army of social media stooges stirring up shit over the net. You tend to see them trolling message boards, causing fights, or just basically starting baseless rumours that gets passed along.” 

Ignis carefully folded back the paper and set it aside. “Aranea, I think you have been wearing the tinfoil hat for far too long. I would’ve expected  _ Prompto  _ to come up with this kind of thing, but not you.” 

“Oh, you think so, huh?” she said nastily. “Y’know, during my time at school, they’d distribute flyers every week, praising the greatness of the Empire and how she’ll protect us. This right here works the same way. They never mention his work as Chancellor. Instead they show a guy who’s lost a woman he loves and he wants her back. People resonate with that. They want to see a love story with a happy ending.”

“Noct’s love story has a happy ending! He’s  _ devoted _ to Lady Lunafreya. And she to him. You can’t possibly ask for a more solid union between the Oracle and the King. You assume that I don’t know how this works, but you couldn’t be more wrong. The zeitgeist of our generation is of uncertainty and antagony, yes. But it is also of hope, and a promise of a better future. Are you really that much of a pessimist to not want that for Julian?” 

She sighed. He’s right, dammit. He always was. “If there’s anything that I’ve learned from Ardyn, is that he’ll always have a hidden ace up his sleeve.” 

“And what makes you think that I don’t have one?” 

“You’re not a bastard, that’s what.” 

He shook his head, tired of this debate. It was foolish to ignore the writings on the wall, he knew that. But there were other things that demanded their more immediate attention, and Aranea seemed to have lost sight of that. He looked around, taking a moment to soak in his surroundings. “Why are you here?”

“You mean, existentially? If I’m here to answer a higher calling, then I must’ve missed the cue.”

“No. I mean,  _ why _ are you  _ here... _ in this place?”

“Trying to blend in, I guess? Pretending.” 

He eyed the children, the group of mothers, and then back at her. “You’re pretending to be a suburban housewife?”

“Must be nice, to be bored of their lives,” she said. “All they need to worry about is snacks for the kids, when’s the next soap opera coming up, and then wait for their husbands to come home for some nice scheduled sex. Ugh, if it were me, I’d take a shotgun and blow my own head to bits. Or swallow Prozac. Same thing.”

“How morbid,” he murmured. “You’re not cut out for an ordinary life, Aranea. You’re too much of an unpredictable algorithm. Being one of  _ them-” _ he motioned towards the group of mothers, “would chafe you to the very core.”

“Know what I feel like sometimes?”

“Schizophrenic?”

“Oh, you’re  _ so _ funny. No. I feel like I’m one of those RPG characters where you have to do a special glitch just to get me as your party member.”

He wrinkled his brow. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying-” she made a frustrated noise, seemingly at a loss to explain herself. “I don’t really fit anywhere. I’m not part of anything. It makes no difference whether I’m there or not.” 

He had no response to this. If he was indeed mulling over one, he’d swallowed it and stored it somewhere under the category of ‘Unimportant’. “I could’ve drove us here.”

“I wanted to take the monorail. They’re issuing this limited edition Pasmo cards...the one with the Noctis and Luna’s wedding design. Besides, the office is right there, right?” she asked, motioning towards the building nearby. 

“Oh, please. Of all the flimflam excuses you could possibly give me, a Pasmo card  _ cannot  _ be one of it.” 

“Look, I needed the space...ok? And I think you need it as much as I do. What we’re about to do...what you’re getting yourself into-”

“Is something that I consciously and willingly  _ choose _ to do. You cannot say that I’m doing this out of duress. So please...let me hear none of this. Enough of you questioning my choices.” 

He never rose his voice. He didn’t have to. He spoke with such firmness and conviction that it surprised even her. 

“You’re gonna be hearing a lot of ugly shit, that’s all I’m sayin’,” she said. “Last chance to bail. I won’t hold it against you.” 

He fixed her with a rather pointed look, as if nailing his answer straight to her head. She raised her hands in mock defeat. “Alright, alright. Case closed. We won’t mention this anymore.” 

“Aranea…”

“What?” She’d heard him say her name in varying shades of emotion: anger, disappointment, humour. This time she was hearing hesitation.   

“For what it’s worth...your presence does matter to me.” 

He’d said it in such quiet tones that she almost missed it. When he finally plucked up enough courage to look up from the ground, he found that she was staring at him. He squared his jaw and met her gaze. There’s no backing down from this now. 

“Is it not enough for you?” he asked. 

She seemed to have suddenly remembered to speak. “Well, I-um,” she burbled. “Hm…”  _ Fight or flight, Aranea. You run away now, he wins. And he’ll get to be such a smug jerk about it afterwards. _

So she chose the best course of action.

She got up and left.   

* * *

Aranea studied the namecard she’d been given. Ludo Vedrix of  _ Vedrix and Associates. _ The lawyer’s hand was smooth and warm as she shook it. He must’ve invested on a very good skin lotion to take care of it, much like the rest of his polished appearance. The skull motif lapel pin on his coat indicated that he’s the officially-appointed royal legal counsel. He seemed a decade older than her at least, if the white hair near his temples were of any indication. 

They were seated at the coffee table, Aranea finding herself once again fidgeting uncomfortably on the sofa. The framed university certificates adorning the wall did nothing to assure her that she was in good hands. There was even an enlarged photograph of Ludo posing and smiling with the late King Regis. They seemed to be chummy, but then again a 10,000 gil hourly rate would make anyone BFFs with their employer.

“You ever lost a case?” she asked. 

“Losing is a precursor to winning, Ms. Highwind. And I fully intend to win. Now - I’ve been brought up to speed with your case, but there’s still some pertinent details that we need to go through. Before we begin, however...are you comfortable with Mr. Scientia being privy to our discussion?” 

“What?”

“Do you require his presence?” He nodded towards Ignis, who was seated next to her. 

“Oh. Yes. He’s very much involved in this.”

“And how so?”

“He’s -uh- he’s the father of my son.” She cleared her throat. “The  _ real  _ one.”

Ludo’s eyebrow twitched. “I  _ see,”  _ he said emphatically, opening his briefcase with two smart clicks. “Well, congratulations to you. Most people lack that kind of information, making the issue of paternity a rather...sticky subject.”  

“Well, you’re good at getting people unstuck, right?” 

“I do try.” He produced a tablet and a pen, ready to jot down information. “Now, as I understand it, you wish to contend the custodial right over your son, correct?”

“Yes.” 

“Mothers usually lose that right when there’s evidence that they’re a danger to the safety and wellbeing of their child. Has there ever been such evidence brought against you?”

“Yes. I -uh-” Aranea shut her eyes and sighed, dreading this very moment. She knew meeting a lawyer was a bad move, because then all the ugliness and shit would be dragged out into the light. But the alternative was much, much worse, and that prompted her to reply: “I tried to kill my son once.” 

She didn’t bother to look when she heard the shuffling next to her. Ignis was clearly troubled by this revelation.  _ Yet another thing you didn’t know about me.  _ She was a stack of cards with plenty of blank faces. 

Ludo’s pen got busy, scribbling something over the tablet. “Would you care to elaborate?”

“When he was a baby, I had trouble coping with him, and the...changes that came with it. Doubled by his constant health problems, and me not being able to work  _ because _ of his health problems...well, things just got worse. My career was on a standstill, and with Ardyn’s repeated absence, I was pretty much on my own. I was frazzled, frustrated, and very much alone. So one day...I just snapped. I-I thought that it’d be easier if Julian was dead.” 

That admission, once it was said out loud, felt shameful and jarring. She went silent for a long moment. Only the sounds of the secretary working outside filtering in through the door served to break that silence.

“I understand that talking about this is very difficult,” Ludo eventually said. “But in order for me to be of any help, I’m going to need you to be as thorough with the facts as possible. Abstracts and hearsay do not hold weight in any court. So...whenever you’re ready...please continue.” 

Aranea’s fingers twitched. Ignis had recognized that poker tell of hers. She was nervous and uncomfortable, a rare set of emotion for her. 

Her voice turned hollow as she began to recount the lowest point of her life. “I was driving down the freeway with him in the car. We’d just got back from yet another hospital visit. He had his inoculation jab, and he’s running a fever. Wouldn’t stop crying, just wailing away like some stupid noise machine. I started driving real fast. I really wanted to smash us against a wall or jump over the railing right into the ocean. Anything, really. Anything to make him shut the hell up.”   

Ludo never stopped writing. “And then?” he prompted.

“And then nothing. He burbled something that sounded like ‘mama’, which was goddamn stupid because 3 month babies can’t say shit. But it made me slam the brakes and I just fishtailed in the middle of the road, almost got run over by an SUV in the process. I just stalled, right there in the highway, causing a massive traffic jam. By the time a patrol car found me, I was bawling over the steering wheel with Julian still screaming at the back.”  

“What happened afterwards?”

“I called up Ardyn...practically  _ begging  _ him to help. Told him I was going crazy. But he said, and I quote: ‘Don’t go crazy. No one will feel sorry for you if you do.’ The damn weasel. He’d used my little ‘episode’ to contend the fact that I’m an unfit mother and the judge ruled in his favour.”

“But that was just one instance, and your son wasn’t injured-”

“Well, the prenup just sealed the case against me.” 

“There’s a prenuptial agreement?”

“Of  _ course _ there is. Smug rich assholes like him? He’s gotta protect his assets, right? I was stupid enough to not read through the whole damn thing, but there’s a clause that says ‘in the event that physical evidence of infidelity has been presented’ and Ardyn just waved the paternity test result in court, claiming that I’ve ‘breached contract’ and that’s the final nail to the coffin. I lost my son, lost my business, lost a  _ crapload  _ of money trying to win both back.”

“This prenuptial agreement of yours. I’m going to need a copy, just to go through the details. Who was the attorney present when you signed it?” 

“Just Ardyn’s usual lawyer.”

“You weren’t represented by anyone?” 

“No. We did it at the kitchen. His lawyer came over and explained everything to me, summarizing the prenup’s key points, and that’s it.”

“And throughout that meeting, neither one of them advised you to seek legal counsel prior to signing?”

“No. Why? You think they should’ve?”

“Hm, interesting. I really need to look further into this before I could suggest a plan of action.” 

They sat together for a moment, Aranea filling in details at Ludo’s prompting. Eventually the meeting ended with them shaking hands and Ludo assuring her that he’ll remain in contact. She’d already left his office with Ignis when she suddenly excused herself and went back in again. Ludo was in the middle of making a phone call when he looked up and saw her.

“Ms. Highwind. Did you forget something?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Your price,” she said. “You never told me how much this is gonna cost. Superstar lawyer like you...can’t possibly forget about that one important thing, right?”   

“Ah, yes. Forgive me. I’d presumed that you’ve already been informed beforehand.” 

“Informed about what?”  

In response, he took a notepad and pen, and began writing on it. “I charge hourly rates, along with a retainer fee. There’s also a contingency fee, but in your case, it isn’t applicable. I charge for administration too - fact checks, filings, bookkeeping and the such - and also any case-related travel and lodging should the need for one arises. In short, Ms. Highwind, this is what you owe me-”

Aranea’s dread was already mounting the moment he said ‘hourly rates’. She forced herself to look at the notepad he’d turned towards her. 

After a beat, she gave him a confused look. “This is a freaking joke...right?”

It said: ‘0 gil’. 

“No. I am completely serious. You have Mr. Scientia to thank for that. He’d taken it upon himself to foot the bill. Again, I apologize. I thought that he’d already discussed the matter with you.”

* * *

 

There’s something inherently sad about train stations. A romantic kind of sad. Aranea recalled that she’d said far more goodbyes there than hellos. 

Today was no different. 

Ignis had insisted on seeing her off at the platform. She stood awkwardly with him, ignoring the stares and sniggers Biggs and Wedge had been giving them from a distance. The LED board announcing the train’s schedule was flashing.  _ Tenebrae: Boarding in 10 minutes.  _

Eventually, she couldn’t keep it in any longer. “Alright. What do you want?” 

Ignis was still staring at the crowd milling about on the platform, although his eyebrow was cocked at her question. “Do you expect a general answer, or…” 

“Quit playin’ dumb. You suck at it.”

“I really don’t know what kind of response you’re expecting here.”

“The lawyer told me you’re taking care of the bill. Why?”

“I should think the reason’s pretty clear to you by now.” 

“I’ll pay you back. Okay? Just tell me how much, and-”

_ “No,”  _ he said emphatically. This time he was looking at her. “I simply  _ will not _ accept that.” 

“Look,  _ everyone’s _ got a price. Even you.” 

“Have you completely lost your faith in the spirit of altruism? People do that sometimes, you know. People who care enough.” 

“Yeah, but-”

“I will only take what you’re willing to give.” 

“Wha-? That’s my line!”

“No. You said you won’t  _ ask  _ for what I’m not willing to give. Mine is completely different.”

“Yeah, well...semantics! They’re both the same!” said Aranea, waving a hand dismissively. 

“Good. Then it’s nice to know that we’re both on the same page about this.” 

“That’s not-”

“Aranea, don’t you think that it’s far more prudent to set aside your money for Julian’s future? His education, for example. His daily needs. His comfort. Have you not invested a single thought about that? Or are you  _ that _ secure of his wellbeing? Have you ever thought about what you’re going to do once you’ve got him back? Where are you going to stay once this job with Noct is over?” 

“I’ll think of something!” Aranea said, a tad defensively. “I always do!”

“Quite. A bohemian lifestyle may suit you, but not necessarily him. A child his age needs structure. A routine. You can’t have that when you’re moving around a lot.” 

“Yeah? And what made you such an expert all of a sudden? Mr. Google?” 

“I’ve been raising the Crown Prince since he was a child. You need my résumé as caregiver? That is one.” 

He took note of her silence, and knew that he’d nailed his point home. 

“I am taking responsibility,” he said, softening his tone. “It is what I do. It is what I’ve always have been. You cannot tell me to be anything else, just as much as I cannot tell  _ you _ to be anyone else. Don’t you think there’d be a far better outcome for both of us if we’d reached a compromise instead of an impasse?” 

A man bearing a luggage trolley rattled past, trailing six noisy children behind him. Their caterwauling wails interrupted whatever contemplative moment they have between them.  

Ignis recalled the things Aranea had said at Ludo’s office. A terrible weight suddenly descended upon him, bitter and vitriolic in taste. “What happened to you...what was done to you...was _despicable._ Had I known sooner, I’d have-”  

There was a cheerful ding from the intercom, followed by a woman announcing that the train to Tenebrae was ready for boarding. 

Aranea shouldered her bag. She was still trying to think of what to say. 

“Things are a bit better now. That’s all that matters,” she said, sounding nonchalant. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, added: “Thanks for the ride. If I haven’t thanked you for everything else, then thanks for that too.” 

“I’ve already said that I would help. I meant every single word.” 

They stared at each other for a moment. The air between them once again crackled with things that they’d wanted to say to each other but couldn’t quite bring themselves to do it.

“Safe travels, Aranea. Please let me know once you’ve arrived.”

“It’s gonna be a boring six hours.” 

“Yes, well...I’m sure you’ll find a way to occupy yourself.” 

“Too bad you’re not comin’.” She raised an index finger and lightly prodded him in the chest. 

And then she was gone. She boarded the train steps, and with one final wave, disappeared into the carriage. 

Biggs and Wedge eventually trotted past, the former tipping his hat at Ignis, while the latter said: “Put it righ’ ‘ere, mate.” 

He had his fist raised. 

After the briefest of hesitation, Ignis took his hand out of his pocket and fistbumped Wedge. 

“She takes care o’ herself. But we’ll keep an eye out too,” said Wedge with a wink.

* * *

 

Whatever meaningful moment Ignis had with Aranea, it was gone the moment he reached the Citadel. The men’s restroom up at the 10th floor suffered a leakage and now the entire Department of Education and Training smelt like a septic tank. He stood in the midst of the pandemonium as crewmen with facial masks came and went, trying their best to fix the problem while orderlies armed with air fresheners walked around the hallways, spraying as they went, trying to mask the foul odour. 

The stench even followed him inside the elevator, and he fervently hoped that it didn’t stick to his clothes. The moment he reached his office, he was summoned by Noctis for a meeting. He’d sighed, thinking that there was indeed no rest for the wicked. By the time 6pm rolled by, he decided to clock out. It had been a particularly draining day, and all he wanted was to just go home and sleep. 

Which was why when the phone call with the strange number came in, he almost didn’t pick up. 

And he was  _ really _ glad that he eventually did in the end. 

He’d made it a policy to not entertain work-related calls and emails after hours just for the sake of his own sanity, and he’d even distributed a memo to all the other departments to do the same. This came in light of an employee who had a nervous breakdown, and now there’s bi-annual talks about mental health and depression which was compulsory for every staff to attend. 

He stared at the flashing number on the screen, not recognizing the dialling code. He really was looking forward to sleep. He’d already taken off his glasses and turned down the bed. 

His thumb hovered over the red button to reject the call, but somehow at the last minute it swiped right and hit the green button instead. 

“Scientia speaking.” He’d kept his tone brusque to make it clear that he wasn’t in a chatty mood. 

He heard nervous breathing on the other end. This is no time to play the stupid waiting game. “Please state your business, or I will hang up,” he said. 

A child’s voice eventually spoke up, clear as bell:  _ “Mister Scientia?”  _

There’s a distinct difference between Mr and Mister. Mr was something you’d normally hear within polite society, an honourific of sorts; while Mister was something you’d get out of a seedy dark alley, where the speaker would say ‘Whatcha lookin’ at, mister?’, and you know you’ll get a faceful of knuckle duster afterwards, followed by you waking up in a bathtub full of ice with a kidney missing. 

This Mister, however, was different. It spoke of uncertainty, and fear. 

“Yes, speaking. Who is this?” 

_ “Um, hi. I-I’m Julian. My mom gave me your number in case I couldn’t reach her. She’s Aranea...by the way…? She said that you’re her good friend, and I should call you if I’m ever in any trouble.”  _

Ignis’s eyes widened. Stars above, it can’t be. It can’t  _ possibly  _ be him right now! Ignis glanced at the bedside clock as if it was a point of solace, a tangible anchor to reality. The digital display showed that it was already 9pm. 

“Are you in trouble, Julian?” he said levelly. 

_ “No. It’s just that I tried calling her, and I kept getting the voicemail. I got worried, so that’s when I decided to call you. I hope you’re not angry…?” _

“What? No! I’m absolutely not angry. In fact, I’m very glad that I finally get to talk to you. Your mother has spoken so much about you.” 

_ “She did? What did she say?” _

“She said that you’re very smart and you enjoy reading about monsters.”

_ “Yeah! She gave me a book and it’s my favourite! But-”  _ at this point his voice fell.  _ “I’ve torn it all up.” _

“Why did you do that?”

_ “‘Cuz I was angry. I thought she’d already forgotten about me. My dad told me that she has.”  _

“Your father? Ardyn?” 

_ “Yeah.” _

“Julian, your mother would  _ never _ forget you. In fact, you’re all she thinks about. She couldn’t wait to see you again, and she’s trying her very best to make that happen. She’s on her way to Tenebrae right now. That’s probably why you couldn’t reach her.” By his own estimation, she’d be arriving within two hours...but due to timezone differences, he’s guessing that he wouldn’t be hearing from her until the next morning.

_ “What’s she doing in Tenebrae?”  _

“She’s got some work to take care of. If you leave a message on her phone, I’m sure she will call you back.” 

_ “Thanks. I’ll do just that. Hey, can I ask you something?” _

“You can ask me anything.”

_ “What’s a half-breed? Is it a bad thing?” _

He frowned. “Where is this coming from?”

_ “It’s just that people keep calling me that, and they’re always angry whenever they see me. Is it because I’m a bastard? People call me that too, whenever they think I’m not listening. Is there something wrong with me? Am I gonna die?”  _ Julian’s voice quavered towards the end, very close to tears.

Ignis closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose hard. Oh, dear God. To hear all that filth uttered in the innocent voice of a child was just too much. He could only imagine the amount of abject cruelty Julian was subjected to during his time with Ardyn. If only he’d known sooner. If only Aranea had approached him. A dozen if only’s running through his head at supersonic speed, and he knew none of them mattered at this point.

“No, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with you,” he finally managed. “It’s just that...people don’t understand you as well as they should.” How the hell was he supposed to rationalize this to a child?    

_ “Mister Scientia?” _

“Yes?”

_ “Can you keep a secret?” _

“I’m  _ extremely _ good at keeping secrets. Is it something you don’t want your mother to find out?”

Julian spoke in hushed tones, as if he was whispering right into the mouthpiece:  _ “I’ve a real dad, you know.” _

Ignis felt himself clutching the phone tighter. “Do you now?”

_ “I don’t really know what that means. I think he’s out there, but I hafta go on this quest first - like King’s Knight - to find him. I gotta travel to some faraway place, maybe fight some dragons and some epic bosses. Then when I finally meet him, he’s gonna say: ‘Yo, you rad for being my son.’” _

Ignis let out a long, drawn-out chuckle. The boy’s got imagination, he could grant him that. “What do you think he’s going to do once you meet him?”

_ “I dunno. I guess he’d probably give me some ultra rare items - y’know the purple-coloured ones? Yeah, like Superior Amulet of Power or something like that. Do you play King’s Knight?” _

“I did, yes. Many years ago.” He didn’t even realize how long ago that was. His character was probably still stored in a server somewhere. 

_ “I like playing the warrior. Wizards are so weak. I hate them.” _

“Actually, I’m a wizard. And a very good one too. I bet I can give you a run for your money.”

_ “You’re gonna play with me?” _

“Why not? It’d be a good way for us to know each other.” Damn, he’d have to start recalling all the command keys again. They’d probably revamped all of that when they rolled out the latest version. Was it King’s Knight 6, or 7 now...?

_ “Do you think he’s going to like me? My real dad, I mean.” _

“I don’t see any reason why not. I already like you, and I can say with the utmost authority that he’s going to like you too.”

_ “Why is he so far away, then?” _

And that was that. Ignis was stumped. A seasoned royal advisor, well-versed in the subtle art of diplomacy and courtly intrigue; the master orator himself...stunned into silence by a six-year-old. 

He felt a lump in his throat. He swallowed hard and coughed before saying: “I wish I could answer that. I really do.” 

_ “Being an adult is super complicated, isn’t it?” _

“I’m afraid it is.”

_ “I don’t ever want to be one.” _

“That is something entirely unavoidable. However, being an adult means you can do more fun things.”

_ “Such as?” _

“Staying up as late as possible. Eating as much ice cream as you like.” He’d thought of Noctis as he said that. Noctis the perpetual man-child.

_ “Awesome!”  _ Julian audibly yawned.  _ “Thanks for letting me talk to you, Mister Scientia. I gotta go now.”  _

“You can call me Ignis. All of my friends call me that.”

_ “Ignis,”  _ said Julian, testing the name out.  _ “Okay.” _

“Goodnight, Julian. Dream of dragons for me.”

_ “G’night.” _

The boy hung up. Ignis listened to the dial tone for a while, before putting down the phone. He stared into space, lost in a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. 

“Bloody hell.”

* * *

 

**Next episode: Cid gives advice about wimmin’.**


	12. Cherchez la femme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea gets into a retrospective mood, Iggy gets advice about women, and Ardyn made Aranea cry.

Tenebrae was gorgeous at this time of the year. Aranea filmed sweeping vistas and thundering waterfalls plunging down gorges while sparkling sprays painted rainbows in the sunlight. She visited the famous sylleblossom fields, and immediately wished that Lunafreya was there so that she could film the princess interacting with the flowers.

Her phone had been giving her trouble ever since she’d updated the OS. It kept automatically rejecting calls and overrode every single custom setup she’d made. She eventually asked Biggs to go on an errand run to get her a new burner phone.

“OS trouble, eh?” said Biggs as he watched her rip open the plastic cover.

“What else?” she gritted out. “Stupid thing. Why roll out a shiny new OS when it causes so much problems?”   

“Never bovvered updating meself. Usually does it yonks after it came out, when everybody’s stopped complainin’.”

“I usually don’t update. But some of the apps started bitching about how they’re not compatible, so I _had_ to.”

Biggs felt his phone vibrate. “Sent you a missed call,” she said when he took it out. “Pass the number to the others, willya?”

“Sure thing. Say, Lady A?”

“What?”

He held up another plastic bag. “Thing is, I got ‘ere some essentials from the store. Left me bag at th’ hotel, tho...so I wuz wonderin’ if I could just park this in yours all temp’rary-like.”  

She shot him a suspicious look. “That ain’t nothin’ illegal, is it?”

“Naw! It’s all legit, I promise.”

“Fine. Just toss it in.”

She was too preoccupied with her new phone to notice that Biggs had a crafty grin as he slipped the thing into her bag.

They’d obtained special permission to film at the Fenestala Manor. They were, however, afforded restricted access. Aranea stalked the gilded hallways, trying to find the perfect location to shoot. She passed by a wall of paintings of the royal family, where each member had their own individual pieces. She lingered particularly on Ravus’s, who haughtily looked down his nose at her. This had to be the most recent one - he was clad in his white Imperial uniform. He’d looked so much like his late mother, but that’s where the resemblance ended. What he lacked in regality, he’d more than made up for it in austerity. It was a far cry from the person she’d remembered years ago.

Wedge arrived to tell her that Maria, Lady Lunafreya’s maidservant was all prepped for the interview. He noted her contemplative mood, and for a moment he too stood back and observed the painting.

“Recallin’ someone from yer academy days?” he asked.

She let out an affirmative hum. “He’s not worth remembering.”

“Shites like him usually aren’t.”

“I know. It’s a waste of time. Maybe we don’t need a shot of the royal family after all. Spoils the overall mood, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. We only need to focus on happiness.”

“Happiness. Hah. Only kids and people on drugs could ever be really happy.”

“Doesn’t mean the rest of us mere mortals can’t try.”

She nodded towards the painting. “First saw him in the barracks. I was in charge of the recruits at one point. Got so pissed at him because he wouldn’t stop crying about his dead mom. Then he found out that Caligo’s in charge of the invasion, and he’d had it in for me ever since. Kept blamin’ me ‘coz he can’t do it to the old man. Just ‘coz...y’know. Genetics,” she said, giving an offhanded shrug.

Wedge nodded. It’s extremely rare for her to open up about her military past.

“Doesn’t mean that I don’t keep hatin’ myself for it,” she went on. “I mean, there I was living up to Caligo’s standards, and yet I’m all dead inside. Y’know?”

“S’matter of fact, I do.”

“Yeah. Story of my life. It is...what it is. Sometimes I wonder...does Lunafreya know about me and Caligo?”

“She knows. And she doesn’t care. She knows that despite everythin’ else, ya ain’t him.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got his genes.” She made a face. “And come to think of it - Julian’s got some of it too.”

“But mixed with Scientia’s you get somethin’ even better. Blood don’t make us, Lady A. It’s wot you do that matters.”

“Yeah. I guess. Maybe that’s why Ravus is so angry all the time.” She’d recognized that kind of anger within herself. Like her, Ravus had harnessed it - albeit rather poorly - and used it as an engine to powerhouse himself throughout life. They both had to do it, because the  alternative was to shrivel up in a corner and feel sorry for themselves. The only difference was, Ravus had to do things he didn’t want to do, and that made him resentful.

“He prob’ly thinks a permanent lemon-sucking face is a good look on ‘im.”

Aranea snickered. “Ya kiddin’ me? Chicks _dig_ that kinda stuff.”

* * *

_“Should’ve told you that I gave your number to him. Sorry.”_

“No, it’s alright. I was just...caught completely off-balance, that is all.”

_“So what’s it like? Talking to him?”_

Ignis hesitated, pondering over his answer. Julian was, in a word - lonely. From the way he spoke, it sounded as if he’s yearning for validation of his own existence, and for a child to go through that was extremely troubling.  

“He misses you terribly,” he said. “He couldn’t wait to see you.”

He heard Aranea sigh. _“Clingy little brat, isn’t he?”_ she said. There was genuine affection in her voice. _“Bet he got that from you.”_

“Excuse me?” he said in a huff of laughter. “Me. Clingy?”

_“Yeah. How you won’t let go of certain things. The way you’d get into mommy mode around Noct despite the fact that he’s all grown up now.”_

“It’s a force of habit, mainly. And I believe the word for that is ‘tenacity’.”

_“Potatoes, potatoes. Listen, I gotta go. Talk to you later, alright?”_

“Of course. Goodbye, Aranea.”

Ignis hung up. He stared outside the large glass window of the service centre, where his car was receiving her usual tune-up. When it came to personalized attention, none could beat Hammerhead’s service. But he couldn’t very well spend two hours driving out of the city just for a regular maintenance job.

A father. He’d hardly entertained much thought about becoming one, and now he _is_ one within a span of 72 hours. His mind was wrapped around that concept in very much the same way a car hugs a tree after a crash. What’s he going to do? What _can_ he do? Should he start contemplating marriage with Aranea? That’s the proper course of action for this kind of situation, is it not? But there’s also the question of whether she wanted to...and whether _he_ wanted it as well.

The thing was: he’d always been so sure on the proper course of marriage. Meet someone, court that person, fall in love, marry and start a family. Aranea had singlehandedly mussed up all of the steps in one fell swoop. Just like their last meeting at Vesperpool where he was left to witness her walking away with Ardyn, she’d thrown his emotions into disarray. She was like a sudden tempest who’d blow into his life and leave nothing but destruction in her wake. She was very good at that, and the funny thing was, it wasn’t even intentional.

It was moments like this that he heard Prompto’s voice echoing cheekily and rather unhelpfully inside his head: ‘That’s ‘coz she totally rocked your world, brah.’

He vaguely registered someone sitting next to him. It wasn’t until that person lightly punched him in the arm that he looked to see who it was.

“Cid!”

The old man waggled his brows, smiling from ear to ear. “Caught ya in some faraway land, kid,” he said. “Wouldn’t mind hitchin’ a ride if it’s somewhere fun.”

“No, I - this is incredible! How are you?” They both shook hands. Cid’s grip was still firm, his gaze still steady, with the twinkle of a man who’d gone through life and finally saw the big punchline. “What brings you here?”

“Told ya ah’d never set foot in Insomnia again, and here ah am. Damn hypocrite, right? Was jus’ visitin’ my old friend. He owns this place, ya know. That your car there?”

“Yes. Just running through the usual checks.”

“She’s a real beaut. But still, nothin’ beats the ol’ Regalia.”

“Yes. She is one of a kind. You know - it is funny. I was just thinking about Hammerhead, and suddenly here you are.”

“Heh. Always been known to pop up where ah’m least expected. Me old mama used ta say that all th’ time. So...how’s the new kingy? He lopped off anyone’s head yet? Raised more taxes?”

“None of the sort, I’m afraid. Although he has imposed an additional levy on Imperial goods.”

“Wanna start relyin’ on our own products, eh? Well, good fer him. Gives all of us small fry businesses a better fighting chance.”

“That is the long term plan, yes.”

“He got the pre-wedding jitters yet?”

“He’s taking everything in his stride. If he is indeed nervous, I daresay he’s doing a very good job of not showing it.”

“Tell ‘im there ain’t no shame in askin’ for help. If he ever need any advice on the conjugal matters, feel free to gimme a call. Got some bedroom techniques that’s guaranteed to make his lil’ lady sing like a canary fer days on end, heheh.”

Ignis smiled. “I’ll be sure to relay that message.”  

Cid elbowed him in the ribs. “What about’cha, huh? When ah saw ya jus’ now, ya look like someone ate yer last bonbon.”

“Hm? Oh, no. I’m fine, actually.”

“Try again, kid. Ya ain’t foolin’ me.”

Ignis eyed the man, trying to discern his intentions. Should he tell? Shouldn’t he…? Perhaps a seasoned gentleman like Cid could offer a far better insight on his situation.  “Alright,” he finally conceded. “I may have been...I mean - I _could’ve_ been…” He stopped, and sighed. “I’ve just been feeling very troubled of late.”

Cid cackled. “Cheechee lafam, yeah kid?” he said, tapping the side of his bulbous nose conspiratorially.

“I’m sorry - what?”

“Look for the wimmin’. That’s what ‘em frou frou lala fancypants up north likes ta say it, ah s’pose? All the problems known to man, be shore ta find a lady at the centre of it.”

“Erm...yes. That is correct...to a certain extent.” It was actually pronounced _‘cherchez la femme’,_ but Ignis didn’t have the heart to correct the old man. He sighed, tugging at the hem of his gloves. It was a subconscious tick he had whenever he was agitated. “I don’t understand women.”

“Hah, they ain’t meant to be unnerstood, sonny jim! Ya got it all backwards,” exclaimed Cid.

“What are they meant for, then?”  

“They’re s’pposed to be loved! An’ appreciated! If ya ain’t prepared to pour ya heart and soul out on ‘er, then ya might as well kiss ‘er goodbye. This wimmin. She good to ya?”

“She’s...complicated.”

“Hmph, who isn’t? She did that to ya?”

“What? Oh, this-” his hand reached up to touch the bandage on his forehead. “No, I was with her when it happened. We were rowing in a lake, and we got run over by a catoblepas.”

“Hah! Would love ta see that! Whoo-hoo!” Cid cackled, slapping his thigh in amusement. “That rowin’ thing...her idea?”

“More or less...yes.”

“She a troublemaker, eh? Can’t live with ‘em, can’t live widdout ‘em.”

“She does things which...confuses me sometimes.”

“Like what? Sleep upside-down? Drinks cola and farts the national anthem afterwards?”

“Heavens, no. Nothing like that. She’s just...different.”

“Ya love ‘er or not?”

“Love?” Ignis frowned. He never really thought about it. The thoughts and feelings he had towards her...do they resemble any form of love? “I’m...not entirely sure.”

“But ya don’t hate her?”

Ignis clicked his tongue. “No, I definitely don’t. Despite everything else, I do _like_ her. Even though I can’t exactly explain why.”

“Ya can’t keep explainin’ everythin’ that’s ever happened in yer life, boy! Sucks the mystery outta it. Why’s the sky blue? Why’s the grass green? Sure, there’s sciencey stuff about ions and chloro-whassat? Chloro-thingamabobs. But sometimes the universe works in ways us humans ain’t meant to unnerstand. Ya jus go with it. Thing feels right to ya? Ya feel happy doin’ it? Then nuthin’ and no one can question why yer doin’ it. Ya kissed her yet?”

“I...erm, I did...a long time ago, yes.”

“An’ now? Ya ain’t doin’ it anymore?”

“Let’s just say that we’re both working our way backwards.”

“What? Ya damn kids an’ yer newfangled grey area cockamamie bullshit. Yer either kissin’ ‘er, or yer ain’t.”

“She was married when I kissed her. And...it was more than a kiss.”

“Eh? Got right down ta business an’ straight away went for her hoo hah? No wonder she ain’t kissin’ ya now. Didja buy her dinner before that at least?”

“She wasn’t interested in dinner. And in my defense, it was a mutually consensual decision to...ah, skip that part.”

“An’ now she’s back in yer life. How d’ya feel about that?”

“Confused, mainly. And perhaps, happy...to a certain extent. I’m not making any sense, aren’t I?”

“Jus' as much sense as a man in love. Not the crazy, head-over-heels in love, mind ya. Those thangs might sound good in songs an’ movies an’ hippity-hop whatnots, but they tend to have a rather short lifespan. No, yours is more real. If you’re confused enough ta think about her ta the point yer troubled by it, then there’s somethin’ there alright. It ain’t necessarily right. Or even wrong fer that matter. Ya jus gotta decide whether she’s worth it. What’s she like, anyways?”

“Willful. Capricious. Independent. Having endured a difficult childhood, she’d developed a certain...fortitude.”    

Cid sighed deeply. “Ya’ll quiet types’re all the same. Always goin’ after ‘em virago types of wimmin. Nevermind she can kick ya in the head and run off with yer wallet afterwards. Cor’s jus’ like that too...back in the day.”

“The Marshal? Whom did he get involved with?” The man never got married, and was extremely taciturn about his past. To hear someone else talk about it was interesting.

“Some girl he’d met in Accordo. She’d helped Regis out a few times. Never saw ‘er after we skedaddled back to Eos. Ah don’t think he’d ever gotten over her since. Don’ ask him about it, though. He’ll flat out deny it. Well, maybe after a coupla drinks he’ll spill his guts out, but fer now?” He mimed zipping motions to his mouth.

“Ah. Understood.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Cid lost in the past, while Ignis was pondering the present.

Finally Cid spoke up again: “Welp, if ya don’t mind a lil’ bit of final advice from a shrivelled up geezer like meself…”

Ignis smiled. “You, a geezer? Perish the thought.”

“Life’s too short fer all the ‘what ifs’ and ‘ah should’ves’, so ah says if you’ve got a second shot with ‘er, ya take it. Ya give it ya all, and pray to God ya don’t mess it up…’cos based on what you’ve told me about her, she ain’t the type to stick around when she knows she ain’t bein’ appreciated. Girls like her...they won’t have trouble finding other people who do. So ah say quit overanalyzin’ an’ go fer it. If thangs don’t work out in the end, well...at least ya know ya’ve tried rather than sittin’ in the sidelines with yer thumbs up yer ass. Yer confused? Yer scared? Well, whoop-dee-do. That’s life, kiddo. This is a _person_ you’re contemplatin’, not a goddamn brain surgery. Ya jus fix whatever that needs fixin’, and move on from there.”   

Ignis took a moment to let his words sink in. “Thank you. That was very insightful.”

Cid nodded. “Same goddamn problem we’ve bein’ facin’ since th’ dawn of man. You would’ve thought that we’d have all the answers already, huh? Take a shower, stand up straight, pull out a chair fer the lady. Jus’ when ya think ya’ve got ‘er all figgered out, she up and surprises you with somethin’ else. Ya feelin’ that way with her?”

“Very much so, yes. Sometimes.”

“Ya dancin’ the foxtrot, she does the rumba. Ya wanna take it slow and do the tango thingy. She ain’t havin’ that, and decides to do some jazz. Well, kid. Here’s the thingy about dances - ya, listenin’ ta me?”

“Of course.”

“Ya ever trip, ya ever stumble, it don’ matter. Ya just keep dancin’. That’s all there is to it.”

“Even when you’ve got the beat wrong?”

Cid gave him a stare that was wiser than Bahamut’s. “That’s when ya improvise, silly.”

* * *

 

Aranea exited the hotel elevator and walked down the carpeted hallway towards her room. She had her phone out and was contemplating on sending Ignis a text message. Nothing serious - just something light to let him know that she’s thinking of him. They’d only spoken this morning, so would it be too much if she did it again in the evening? She wasn’t sure of the status of their relationship. They were both moving into uncharted territories, and without a road map, she found herself in an unfamiliar terrain, guided by unfamiliar stars. Are they cool? Are they not cool? More importantly - why was she overanalyzing this? She’s turning into Ignis, and it’s not even funny.

Throwing caution to the wind, she quickly tapped out a message and sent it out to him before she could change her mind. _Oi, government tax-robber. Are you still swindling money out of upstanding citizens? Makes me think twice about coming back to Lucis. ;) Just done wrapping up another day. How’s things on your end?_

She took out her key card, fiddling for a moment with the lock because she still couldn’t quite figure out the mechanism of the damned thing. She’d often pull the card out too soon and the door would remain steadfastly locked. Whoever invented this security system was clearly a sadist.

Her phone rang. Once, before it was abruptly cut off. Shit, is that Ignis? Didn’t she tell him already about her phone trouble? He can’t possibly have forgotten, can he? One glance at the caller ID and she groaned.

Ardyn.

Welp, maybe there’s a silver lining in this too. She was in no mood to deal with him right now.

Her phone rang again. It got cut off again. She’d finally managed to get the door open. She kicked off her shoes and dumped her things onto the bed. There was a ping from her phone, made even more urgent by the fact that Ardyn had just tried calling her twice and couldn’t get through.

_I need to talk to you. Now._

She swore. Loudly. In quick, irritated motions, she typed out a reply: _Can’t this wait till tomorrow?_

Ardyn said: _No._

 _I can’t make calls. Phone trouble._ There’s no way in hell she’s giving him access to her burner phone. She needed the peace and quiet.

He said: _There’s vid comms, is it not? It’s so childishly simple, I’m sure you can manage to make one._

She sighed. Of course. What Ardyn wants, Ardyn gets. She fired up her laptop, and while waiting for it to boot up, she looked at herself in the mirror. A layer of grease had supplanted her makeup, making her face look shiny. She wiped it off with her fingers, then patted her hair into a more manageable look. She was dressed in her pinstripe suit, because she had an interview with the Fleuret’s Chief of Staff, and a certain dress code had to be observed.

After deciding that she looked presentable enough, she sat down and turned on the vid comm window. She couldn’t believe she still had Ardyn in her contact list, but there he was, with his username and avatar. She clicked on it, and the camera view opened, showing her face staring awkwardly into the screen.

Her fingers tapped irritatedly on the table as the ringtone droned on. She wondered what the hell was so important that he needed to talk right now.

The live feed window switched views, revealing Ardyn seated on a sofa. He was clad in a rather garish dressing gown, prompting her to snicker slightly. He’d always had terrible taste sometimes. His hair was still tousled as usual, and there was a distinct five o’clock shadow on his face. He raised a brow at her.

 _“What’s the matter?”_ he said. _“Don’t like my new outfit?”_

“Not particularly, no. What do you want?”

He peered closer towards the screen. _“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear. Have you done something to your hair?”_

“Stop calling me that. Cut the shit and tell me what you want.”

He smiled languidly, letting his unabashed gaze travel along her face, her lips, her shoulders, and eventually onto the swell of her breasts. She’d chosen a rather lovely lace chemise for the day, and now she felt like burning it after being subjected to his lecherous leer.

Fighting the impulse to cross her arms into a defensive stance, she said: “Saw your little piece on ‘Hello’. How much did you pay reporters to publish that?”

Ardyn finally sat back again. He let out an incredulous laugh. _“Pay? Is that really the extent of your imagination? No. They contacted me, asking to do a piece about you.”_

“And you immediately agreed, violating my privacy in process.”

 _“Come now, Aranea. Surely you should know that nothing about you is private anymore. Why, a little birdy had told me that you’re in bed with the Lucians now. And you’re looking_ rather _cozy too...especially with that royal advisor of theirs.”_

“I’ve no idea what the hell you’re talking about. It’s all just work.”

 _“Hm, yes. The royal wedding. You know, they’ve yet to send me an invite. Are they purposely snubbing me? If so, I am_ terribly _hurt.”_ He placed a hand over his heart, affecting a rather sad countenance. The effect was spoiled when he smirked.

“Oh, please. You’ve wouldn’t know hurt even if it kicked you in the head. You’re a fucking vampire. If people tried to stab you in the heart, they wouldn’t find it...because you don’t have one.”

 _“Always with the colourful similes. Now - obviously we’re not here to lollygag. I’ve received a rather interesting document this morning.”_ He picked up a sheaf of papers from the coffee table. _“It says here...hmm…”_ He peered thoughtfully over the print.

“Wear your glasses, old man.”

He snapped his attention towards her. A crafty grin spread across his features.

 _“You and your jokes,”_ he said fondly, much in the same manner of a homeowner chiding a small and cuddly pet who’d just did a weewee on the carpet. _“I really miss that about you. Why can’t we just get back together?”_

“Because I don’t miss _anything_ about you. And you saying that while I’m suing you for custody is just...wrong! Those’re the papers, aren’t they? Don’t act like you haven’t read them beforehand.”  

He sighed. _“Oh, yes. Troublesome little things, they are. It says here our original prenup is now deemed dismissable and void due to the fact that you didn’t have an attorney representing you during the signing. Really, must we resort to nitty-gritty details like this? The list of demands on this...is just...well, ridiculous! Why not just ask for my soul while you’re at it?”_

“You actually still have one?”

_“First I don’t have a heart, now I lack a soul. However do I manage that?”_

Finally tired of him beating around the bush, her resolve broke.

“Military academy,” she burst out. “Really? You know how I feel about that place and now you want to send Julian there? The hell are you playin’ at?”

_“It is a good place as any to build character and moral fibre. Besides, your father even approves of him being there-”_

“Approve my ass. Don’t you bring the old man into this.”

_“Ooh, still touchy, are we? Well, you really shouldn’t-”_

“Julian. Is. Six. He’s six! There’s rifles which are two times taller than him! In case that still hasn’t sunk into that thick permed head of yours, he’s _way_ below the minimum age limit. They only accept 13-year-olds! Or is there some junior cadet programme that I’m not aware of?”

_“He can start with the lance division, just like you. No need to be so hasty as to let him handle a gun. Wouldn’t want him to accidentally shoot off his own darling toes, would we?”_

“He shouldn’t be anywhere _near_ any sort of weapon! Period!”

 _“Come now - aren’t you the least bit curious to see if he has that killer instinct like yours? You know what it’s like, don’t you?”_ At this point, his eyes lidded over, voice pitched lower as he spoke in a sickly sweet viper tone: _“You know that once you’ve taken a life, you’ll develop a taste...for more.”_

“Maybe that bumper sticker slogan might work on you, but not me. Find someone else to try out your sales pitch.”

_“I really meant it when I said I was sorry about our unfortunate circumstance. I’ve realized that only when we’ve reached the end that I started thinking about the beginning.”_

“I don’t care. Everytime I think about us, all I could hear is that sound Pacman makes when he dies.”

 _“Do you remember this?”_ he suddenly asked, producing a Polaroid photo and showing it towards the camera. The image went blurry for a moment, until the camera auto-focused itself.

Aranea immediately scowled. For him to trot out this shit just after the fallout of their marriage was nothing short of despicable, and quite frankly - smacked a bit of desperation. She’d given him so many chances before, so many opportunities...and he’d squandered every single one of them. Seeing him do this now, _of all times,_ was really the last straw.

It was a picture of them when they first started dating.

She glowered at him. “How dare you.”

Ardyn had withdrawn the photo, and now he looked at her in confusion. _“What? It’s a nice picture. I didn’t even think I had it until I went through my things again.”_

“YOU WEREN’T THERE!” she shouted, now angry beyond belief.

He shot her a perplexed look. _“For what? I haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re talking about.”_

Aranea wasn’t having none of this. Not anymore. Ardyn could act like he’d done nothing wrong, but if dredging up the depths of their sordid past was all it takes to prove how messed up he was, then so be it. “Altissia. I was at Altissia when I started getting labour pains. It was Biggs and Wedge who helped get me to the hospital. Not you. Biggs and Wedge. The doctor thought that Wedge was my husband! In hindsight, I probably should’ve said that he was, because then, I wouldn’t be stuck in the labour room - in a foreign goddamn country while we’re at that - for 26 hours, all alone! _You_ try sitting through 26 _fucking_ hours of fucking contractions and see how well you turn out!”

She glared at him, all the hate and vitriol pouring out of her like dark tendrils. One word. Just one stupid word from him, and she will shut him down. He’s facing the firing squad now, and she won’t let him go easy.

“They waited for me,” she said. “Couldn’t get in to see me, but they waited. Took turns, of course. They tried to call you. _I_ tried to call you. But what did you say?” She waited for him to answer, but when none was forthcoming, she shouted again: “WHAT DID YOU SAY?”

_“I don’t know. I don’t remember…”_

“You said you were busy,” she snarled through gritted teeth. “That Iedolas wouldn’t let you off. See, Ardyn...the math here is pretty easy. Do I witness the birth of my son, or do I stay and play with my magitek toys? Ooh, _tough_ choice there. Any _decent_ human being would’ve chosen door A. Instead, Wedge was the first thing that Julian saw. Biggs was the first person to hold Julian. Hell, Biggs even did an emergency run for baby supplies! I didn’t think he knew about nipple pads until he’d brought it and showed it to me! All _you_ did was call and insist on a name. Which, by the way, I fucking hated.”

_“Well, I-”_

“Shut up, I’m not done yet. When I had my ‘little episode’, as you’d like to name it-” she made air quote signs at this point, “you weren’t there. It’s depression, Ardyn. Call it what it is. Stop acting like it’s a dirty word.”

_“But you don’t have it anymore-”_

“That’s right. I don’t. But I wouldn’t have _had_ it in the first place if you’d only showed your face at home more often. I told you I was having problems, but you ignored me. You said it’s ‘just a phase’. It’s just ‘my imagination’. Well, a Chupacabra’s imaginary, but not what I had!”

_“My dear, you have such-”_

“Birthdays. Anniversaries. First steps. First word. First tooth. You weren’t there. Hell, you weren’t there when Julian first got bullied at school. It was all me. I was there for him despite the fact that I had to run my own company, and I had a crazy busy schedule. For you to just stand in front of the judge and claim that I’m an unfit mother is just..the ultimate betrayal!”

_“Oh, so now you want to talk about betrayal-”_

“Julian’s father, just so you know, is ten- no, a _billion_ times the man you are. You want to fight over this? Fine, let’s fight. By the time I’m done, I’ll get Julian back, half your assets, and your ugly ass pink car.”

_“It’s maroon. What are you going to do with it?”_

“I’ve got plans! So you can publish all the fluff piece on how much you want your ex-wife back, coat it in candyfloss and bullshit, then shove it down the throats of anyone who’d care to read about ‘em, but that still doesn’t change the fact that I’m never gonna get back with you. You’re toxic. You’re a poisoned well. Nothing good would ever come out of caring about you.”

She leaned forward suddenly, a dangerous glint reflected in her eyes. “D’you remember that time when we kept trying for a baby, and nothing seemed to work? We saw a doctor and he said that he’s gonna run some tests on us just to see what’s wrong?”

_“Yes? What of it?”_

“Well, I had Julian without your help.”

He cocked his head sideways, finally realizing what she was getting at.

“So it’s obvious that the one with a _problem_ here...is _you.”_

She cut off the vid comm before he could see the tears. Slamming the laptop shut, she stared at the wall as she began to cry. Gashes. Gashes and scars. That’s what she and Ardyn left each other with. It didn’t matter now how much they used to care - or rather, how _she_ used to care. He was so blasé, so insensitive towards her feelings. What made it worst was he didn’t used to be like that before. She’d stayed because she was hoping that she could get the old him back. But her waiting eventually turned into mourning, when she was faced with the hard truth that the old Ardyn was dead and gone. The Emperor was the third party. He’d singlehandedly destroyed their marriage, and she was left all alone, picking up the pieces and _begging,_ like a dog at its master’s table, for scraps of Ardyn’s attention. She never got it. Whatever love she had for him was no longer reciprocated - at least not in the way that she wanted him to.

So now she was done. Done with men taking her for granted. If it meant sparing her another lifetime of heartache, then she was prepared being alone forever. At the very least, she had Julian. She’ll focus all her energy on him and nothing else. Knights in shining armour don’t come for women like her. They no longer exist - those men who uphold the chivalry code to the highest standard. Those selfless few whose needs of others far supersedes their own. She bore no grandiose Quixotic illusions that anyone’s going to come rescue her from fucking windmills.

As if waiting for its cue, her phone pinged. It was a message from Ignis.

_If by swindling meant that we’d have more budget for the education fund, then I’m all for it. Everything is fine here. A bit quiet for my tastes, though. I hope the shoot went well. It must be 8pm where you are. Have you had dinner yet? Please make sure that you eat properly in order to keep your energy up._

She’d half-expected him to stand outside her room at that very moment, bearing a bottle of wine, a cartful of food, and a big, big smile. That thought made her weep even harder. She set her phone aside, not bothering to answer. She didn’t want him to know she was like this right now.

Finally she wiped away her tears with the heel of her hands. Crying didn’t make her feel any better, but a warm shower certainly does. She stood up and got ready for bed. As she turned off the lights and snuggled beneath the sheets, she contemplated the ceiling, waiting to fall asleep.

Her phone buzzed. Ignis must’ve waited for her response, and upon receiving none, sent her a final one for the night:

_You’re probably exhausted. Good night, Aranea. I hope you are well-rested for tomorrow’s journey back._

Maybe knights of chivalry do still exist. Only thing is, they no longer come with shining armour and white horses, but in the form of a caffeine junky wearing tailored suits and driving an Audi Le Mans Quattro.

She closed her eyes and pretended that he was there with her.

* * *

 

**Next episode: Ignis becomes an impromptu voiceover talent...for Ebony!**


	13. Like A Virgin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is...admitting that your partner is better at navigation than you. Ignis and Aranea argue over directions, because that’s a very couple thing to do. 
> 
> And can a foot massage be erotic? Definitely.

Aranea stared down at her own naked form, thinking that she’d completely blown off her new year resolutions had she bothered to make one. They’d probably go somewhere along the lines of exercising more, eating healthily, and having more sex. Hah. She wondered if there’s a single red-blooded man left in Eos who’d gladly climb into the bathtub and make love to her right now.

If she whittled down those who aren’t single, not interested in women, and within a certain age range, then yeah - probably. If she further filtered out those who aren’t serial killers, not in prison, and basically just decent, well-adjusted men without any psychotic history whatsoever, then that number would significantly shrink. If she asked that number whether they’d date a maladjusted woman with an emotional baggage the size of an airship hangar, then that number would gracefully drop to zero.

Still, she can’t possibly have it all bad, yeah? She tried to think of the good things going on with her right now, and came up with: a) She’s got good hair; and b) She still has all her teeth. There. Plus, she’s staying at King Noctis’s personal suite. It even has its own private elevator. How many people can actually brag about that? Which reminds her: she needs to take more pictures here before she left the place for good.

The bathroom door was half-ajar, allowing the music she’d turned on at the study at full blast to filter through. That’s the best part about having an entire floor to yourself. No neighbours to complain about the noise.

After deciding that her fingers and toes looked considerably pruny enough, she got out of the tub and began hunting for the towel. There was none, save for a teeny tiny one for the face. Damn. She stood, arms akimbo and dripping water onto the floor, thinking how she could’ve forgotten. Her feet began tapping in time with the music. Welp, there’s another perk about having the whole place to yourself: you can do whatever you damn well want. No one could see you, in your awkward jiggly bodily bits, and no one would care.    

So with that in mind, she burst out of the bathroom, singing in tandem. This is good, yeah? Letting yourself loose every once in a while. She was feeling absolutely positive for a change, and she showed it by doing a sideways shuffle she saw a backup dancer once did at a DJ Viper concert a few years ago. She looked like a crab having an epileptic fit. Her joints twanged at the movement. Damn, she couldn’t possibly be arthritic at this age, could she?

But that didn’t matter. This is her jam, and she’d kept on grooving down the hallway. If she had her own music video, then it would _definitely_ be of her dancing naked in the living room. Hashtag nofilter and wokeuplikethis. No Photoshop, no snazzy visual effects. This is what life is all about, kids. A mess. One big, fucking beautiful mess. If you’re gonna dance, then might as well do it without anything on.

She emerged into the living room, suddenly caught sight of a figure at the kitchen, looked to see who it was, and jumped halfway to the ceiling.

_“HOLY SHIT! MOTHERFUCKER!!!”_

Ignis stood stock still, already being treated to a bizarre sight of her jiving. He was there to post up a reminder for the trash collecting schedule, and he’d let himself in when she didn’t answer the doorbell for the third time. There’s things in this world which cannot be unseen, and this was one of it. Aranea stood before him, skin still glistening from the bath, naked as the day she was born. There was a noticeable flush staining her cheeks as she realized she’d been caught doing something embarrassing, and a wide, doe-like look in her eyes which was almost too adorable. She’d even been too shocked to remember to cover herself with her hands.

It was a classic cowboy standoff, one party trying to outstare the other. All they needed right now was tumbleweed rolling past. Someone would eventually snarl: ‘This town ain’t big enough for the two of us’, and the rest of the townsfolk would immediately scramble to bring their children and livestock indoors.     

If Ignis had any soupçon of decency - which he actually did, in liberal doses - he would’ve commanded his eyes to look elsewhere. And look elsewhere they did, as he found his gaze travelling inexorably lower. And lower. The years had left their marks on Aranea’s body. Her figure was now maternal - all the sharp lines more generous with curves. Her hips were wider, her thighs fuller, but that didn’t change how he felt towards her. If anything else, the mere sight of her triggered memories of his wet dreams and longing fantasies.

Ooh, she’d freshly trimmed herself down there too.

Oh God, he really wanted to fuck her senseless right now.

Aranea watched as his gaze turned from shock to wonder and eventually to...something else. She was still in that caught-in-the-headlights daze, her muscles locked into place as she followed his movement when he navigated around the island counter, making his way towards her. She noted the details of his clothes - dove grey dress shirt paired with a midnight blue jacket and pants. He had his family insignia pinned to the lapel of his jacket, the tiny silver crow glinting after catching the light from the window.

She imagined tearing all of that off of him.

Her thighs were already clenching together as a rather fast paced porno film of them began playing in her mind.  

 _Go on, then,_ her traitorous thought said. _The sofa’s right there. All it takes is just a tug in the right direction. You both need to get this out of your system toot sweet. You can ride him all day and he wouldn’t mind, and you can forget about your meeting-_

Meeting.

Oh, God. He was supposed to take her to that damned meeting.

Her playlist ended, plunging the entire apartment back into deafening silence.

She recovered long enough to realize how awkward this situation has become.      

Well, with moments like this, it’s always best to go with the flow.

She stuck her chin up, assuming a haughty stance.

“What?” she demanded. “Ain’t nothin’ you haven’t seen before.” With that she turned and ran, whimpering, to the bedroom and slammed the door shut, locking it for good measure. _Shit, shit, shiiiiit!_ Where’s her sexy underwear? Where’s the romantic ambient music? Where’s the strategically placed lighting that makes her look 10 pounds slimmer if she’d angled her body just right? Instead, Ignis was treated to the sight of a lumbering garula, and frankly she wouldn’t blame him if he’d decided to run screaming to the hills.

She cursed a blue streak as she began hunting for her clothes.  

* * *

“Well, how was I supposed to announce myself when the bloody music’s loud enough for me to hear from the lift? And besides, you’re the one who told me it was alright to invite myself in since I have the spare key.”

“Dammit, you could’ve caught me naked on the bed, with a vibrator. Masturbating! Where would we be, then?”

Ignis thought: if he was there, then she wouldn’t _need_ a vibrator. But instead, he said: “You actually have one?”

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter. You’ve missed a turning, by the way.”

“No, I did not. I assure you my sense of direction is impeccable.”

“The GPS navigation just told you to turn right. You turned left.”

As if agreeing with Aranea, a disembodied voice chimed mechanically: _“You have missed your turning. In 500 metres, turn left.”_

She raised her brows and looked pointedly at Ignis. He wisely kept his eyes forward.

“I’ve received reports earlier on of an obstruction down the road. I’m merely avoiding a possible traffic snarl,” he said.

“That road just now was clear! You could lie down and sunbathe right in the middle and nothing will happen to you!”

“You can’t rely on navigation apps 100%. They tend to get mixed up sometimes.”

“It’s _you_ that’s mixed up. Urgh, what is it with men and directions?” she grumbled.

“That is a crass oversimplification. And an unfair one.” He emerged from a sidestreet, and stopped at the junction, clicking the indicator to turn left. The opposite lane was bumper to bumper with traffic, leading all the way to the North-South interchange. That had been their original route, and they would’ve been at least an hour late for their meeting had he followed the GPS navigation.

Aranea knew he was trying his best not to look smug, but he _was_ smug. His very sideburns reeked of smugness. Even the air freshener on his dashboard was saying ‘I told you so.’

Reaching down, she whisked on the radio. The news came on. _“-stalled lorry at kilometer 7 over the North-South flyover. Motorists are advised to-”_ She switched stations. _“-per capita income compared to the gross earnings of-”_

“Don’t you listen to actual music?” she said, pressing a few buttons in the vain hope of trawling for a different station.

“Stop changing my settings. I’ve already done it just right,” said Ignis. He twirled the volume knob, turning it lower.

“God, I’m _so_ gonna die of boredom by the time we reach the studio.”

“I’m sure you can survive at least another fifteen minutes without music. What sort of things do you listen to, anyway? Besides that monstrous cacophony you were dancing to just now?”

She scowled. He laughed. “Shut up! My music’s definitely _nothing_ from your playlist.”

“I’m sure our interests must’ve overlap at some point.”

“I dunno. D’you like the chocobo theme song? Or the Itsy Bitsy Cactuar? ‘Coz I’ve been listening to that shit for the past two years, since Julian’s crazy stupid in love with chocobos.”

“So Prompto may have found a kindred spirit after all.”

“Yeah. I’ve a feeling that they’d be thick as thieves the moment they meet. Prompto even emailed me a list of places he’s planning to take Julian.”

“That’s...very thoughtful of him. All of those places are child-appropriate, I hope?”

“Of _course_ they are! C’mon.”

“I was merely making sure. That is all.”   

_“In 800 metres, take the right exit, and then turn left.”_

“So...you got around to using that blender yet?”

“What blender?”

“Y’know, the one that I stole from the wedding party.”

“Oh. _That_ blender. Um, no. It’s still in the box, inside my cabinet.”

“Why didn’t you use it?”

“I’ve already got a perfectly good one. Why use both? It’s just pointless.”

“Hmm. Shame.”

He glanced at her. “Why shame?”

“I just thought that it’d be nice...y’know? To have our own story, our own private joke that we’d crack at parties and everyone’s just gonna look at us like they’ve no idea what we’re talking about. I mean, I’d go like: ‘Hey, you remember that Blender Incident?’. And then you’d say: ‘Ah, yes. The Blender Incident’. Has a nice ring to it. Sounds even better with capital letters.”

“Oh, so there’s an ‘us’ now?”  

Ignis should really be arrested for sounding snarky and incredibly sexy at the same time.

“Dunno,” she said loftily. “Is that even a thing?” Dammit, she should’ve chosen a textbook shojo manga response, whereby she’d giggle and look away coquettishly. She certainly felt like doing so after seeing that teasing look he’d tossed her.

“Are _we_ a thing?”

Oh, God. He’s really doing this now - re-examining their relationship. She knew that this discussion was inevitable. By taking responsibility over Julian, he’d probably assumed that he’s taking responsibility over her too. The thing was: she’d much preferred to have this conversation at a much different setting. Definitely not when he’s driving, and probably when she’s in a different continent elsewhere, far far away so that she wouldn’t have to deal with the ramifications should she ever blurt out anything inappropriate.

“We’ll be roadkill if you don’t watch yourself,” she said. “We’re almost there...I think. I’ll keep an eye out for parking. I heard it’s tough to get one here.”

* * *

 

Aranea leaned against the wall, panting. She fanned herself with a hand. The lift was broken, so they had to use the stairs. After navigating eight flights, she was huffing and puffing like she wanted to blow some piggies’ house down, while Ignis barely broke any sweat. She’d chosen to wear her brand new boots today of all days, and it was a decision she’d sorely regretted. What started out as a velvet soft calfskin leather that fitted her perfectly like a glove had now transformed into an instrument of abject torture. She had half a mind to take them off right now.

“Goddamn...building. Goddamn...office. Why’d it have...to be all the way at the...seventh floor?”

She was too fond of four inch heels, which were notorious for putting considerable strain to the sole and instep. Ignis wanted to comment on her choice of footwear, suggesting instead a much safer alternative such as pumps and kitten heels; but after much inner wrestling, he refrained. If there were two things that women clung steadfastly to, it was the weight they once had, and the shoes that they like wearing.

Not that he was complaining about the view. Those heels add an extra bit of sway to her already hypnotic hips. He’d purposely hung back a few steps away from her, with the pretext of maintaining a gentlemanly distance - although all the while he was admiring her fantastic derriere being molded into the straight cut of her jeans. Her boyfriend shirt was partially tucked within the waistband, giving that deliberate scruffy look which was decidedly perfect for her. He wondered if her rather masculine choice of clothing that day was due to the fact that he saw her nude earlier. Probably triggered a defense mechanism of sorts, telling him to stay away. If that’s the case, then that tactic wasn’t working on him. No matter how many layers she’d put on her, he would still remember her curves.   

He watched as she leaned her head back against the wall, fully exposing her throat. She was still panting, lips slightly parted, eyes closed. Her bangs had clung to her forehead - an ample excuse for him to just reach out and sweep them aside so that he could really see her face.

When she opened her eyes again, sweat had smudged her eyeliner, giving her a decidedly wild look of a woman who’d just gotten off a rather intense and thorough bout of shagging.

Suddenly he was hit by the strong urge to kiss her and touch her breasts. He’d have her, right there and then, against the wall, if she’d allowed him. Damn the CCTV cameras, damn the other people toiling their way up the stairs. Perhaps the broken lift was a godsend.

She gestured weakly upwards, and wheezed: “I’m fine. Let’s go.”  

“Chin up, Aranea,” he said, placing a hand on the small of her back as he genteelly steered her forward. “Only six more flights to go. We’ll be there before you know it.”

She groaned loudly to the heavens, placed her hand on the banister, and started tromping her way up the stairs.

* * *

 

They entered the office, passing by a harried-looking man speaking anxiously into his phone. Aranea briefly caught him saying: “What d’you mean he’s not coming? The recording’s today!” before the receptionist greeted her and asked if she had an appointment.

“Albert Spangler,” said Aranea to Ignis as they both waited for the receptionist to make some calls. “One of the best composers I’ve ever worked with. I’d asked him to come up with a Noctis and Luna love theme. It’s meant to be played at the concert, when the both of ‘em make their appearance. He’ll be making music for the videos too.”

“Ms. Highwind?” said the receptionist. There was a rather sheepish look on her face. “I”m terribly sorry, but Mr. Spangler’s not in at the moment. He’d stepped out ten minutes ago, saying that he’s got an emergency. Would you care to reschedule your appointment?”

Ignis clicked his tongue. “Well, that was a bloody waste of our time,” he said, irritation colouring his voice. “When will he be available?”

“I can’t say for sure, sir. I’m going to have to check with him before getting back to you.”

“Did he not even bother calling you to say that he’s indisposed?” That question was directed towards Aranea.

“No,” she said.

“That is highly unprofessional. He can’t very well expect us to rearrange _our_ time at the drop of a hat.”

“We’ll just have to, won’t we?” she said, giving him an odd look. She didn’t think he’d throw a hissy fit over a missed appointment. To the receptionist, she said: “Tell him to give me a call. He has my number.”

When they were well outside the office, she turned to him and said, “Okay, what was that all about?”

“His professionalism has been thrown into question, that is all. To not even call to inform you beforehand? I detest that kind of behaviour.”

Her expression softened. “I get it. Time’s important to you. Look, you don’t have to come for the next meeting, okay? I can manage it all on my own.”

“And say what to Noctis when he asks where does all the money from the budget goes to? No. I need to be there. He’d just better make sure that he doesn’t pull this nonsense again.”

“I’ll yell at him myself for causing us trouble. Now let’s just get back and-”

“I say?”

They both looked quizzically at each other, before turning around. It was the man she saw earlier, the one who was talking on the phone and looking extremely worried. He was making his way towards them.

“Can I just bother you for a moment?” he said.

“I’m sorry, but no,” said Ignis. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.”

“Please, just a minute! See, the thing is, I’ve got this super urgent recording session, but the talent was a no-show. I was hoping that you could help fill in for a moment. You have the perfect voice for it.”

Momentary silence as both Aranea and Ignis were trying to digest the information. “Wait - perfect voice for what? Who are you again?” said Aranea.

“Oh, sorry!” said the man. “My name’s Theo.” He pulled out his name card and gave each of them one. “I’m one of the producers. We’ve got this super important client coming in, and we’d already told them we’ve selected the perfect talent for them. Look, my ass is literally on the line here. You’ll be doing me a solid if you’d agree to do this.”

“So which one of us do you want? Who’s your client, anyway?”

“Aranea, I’m not staying for this-”

“Ebony,” said Theo.

Ignis’s brain did an instant 180°.

“Did you say Ebony?” he said.

“Yeah, Ebony. Y’know, the coffee brand-”

“Yes, I know what Ebony is.”

“He’s a _biiiig_ fan,” said Aranea in a theatrical whisper, jabbing a thumb towards Ignis.

Theo brightened up. “Excellent! Then you should be familiar with their product already. They’re releasing this new Double Espresso drink, and so we need to do a soundbyte for the radio. Kinda like a teaser thing. Think you’d be up for it?”

“Well, I certainly-”

“Whoa, whoa, hold the phone,” Aranea interrupted. “What’s your budget?”

“Budget?” said Theo.

“Yeah. You gotta pay the man for his time. This ain’t exactly slave labour.”

At that point, Theo looked doubtful. “Well, it’s just a test run. We haven’t actually decided on using-”

“Dude, you said just now that you’ve already selected a talent. That means you’ve already got a budget allocated for that no-show. So how much are you paying him?”

“Look, I mean this in the most respectful way, but...he’s not exactly a professional-”

“Theo, can I just talk to you in private for a sec?” Aranea smiled and winked at Ignis. “‘Scuse us. Business pow-wow.”

She steered Theo slightly away, and then spoke to him in a low voice. “I don’t think you quite know who you’re talking to. That guy? He’s the second most important man in Insomnia. He’s _so_ important, he’s even got his own Wikipedia page.”

Theo stared at her, wondering if she was joking. “Pfft, get off it. Anyone can write their own Wikipedia page.”

“Yeah? You got yours? ‘Coz I’ve definitely got mine. I’m Aranea Highwind. Google it up. And _that_ guy, is King Noctis’s Royal Advisor. The right-hand man himself. He’s like, just one level down from the Big Boss himself.” She pulled out her phone, tapped out a URL address, then showed it to Theo. “Picture seems familiar to you?”

Theo stared at the Wikipedia photo, then looked at Ignis.

“If word gets out that you’ve got one of the most esteemed member of the royal household actually speaking for Ebony, well - just think of the one up the brand will get. You could write in your print ads that it’s royally approved...or something like that.”

“We only deal with the audio side of things.”

“Doesn’t mean that you can’t drop a suggestion or two to the client. They appreciate that kinda thing! Shows you’ve got initiative.”

Theo was still looking doubtful.  

“It’s fine if you’re not interested,” said Aranea. “I can always call up Wonda and ask if they want to use a sophisticated talent to be the voice for their product.” Wonda was another coffee brand, and Ebony’s biggest competitor. She highly doubted that Ignis cared for Wonda, but of course Theo didn’t have to know that. “With a baritone like his? It’s like chocolate gold. Women would want to have his babies just from listening to him. That’s why you want a male talent, right? To pull in the ladies? Well you can get _that,_ with _him.”_

“Everything alright here?”

They both spun around. Ignis had gotten tired of waiting.

“Mr. Scientia!” Theo beamed. “Forgive me for not recognizing you earlier!”

“That’s quite alright,” said Ignis. He shot Aranea a puzzled and slightly suspicious look. What has she been telling Theo about him?

“It’s entirely possible for us to pay you the original talent’s fee,” said Theo, thinking that the accounts department’s gonna steamroll his ass over this. But arrangements had to be made. Desperate arrangements. He’ll figure out a way to soothe them later.

“And…?” Aranea prompted.

“There’s an and?” Theo asked, confused.

“Chocolate gold. Babies. Lots of estrogen buying in on the coffee sex god persona.”

“Coffee? Ah! Oh, yes! Listen: if the client loves you and decides to use you in the commercial, I can arrange a year’s supply of Ebony products for you. It’s all part of the promotional campaign. Please tell all of your friends about the brand, alright?”

“A year’s supply?” said Ignis.

“A year’s supply,” Theo affirmed. “All the Ebony you’d care to drink. So whaddaya say?”

“Ah, black and white first, please,” said Aranea. Ignis must’ve already been caught up in a fantastic daydream of swimming in caffeine to even remember that they needed to put everything on paper first.

“Of course, of course. I’ll arrange for it right away. If you could just follow me…?” said Theo, already turning around to get back into the office.

Aranea grinned. She caught the look Ignis was giving her.

“Welcome to showbiz, kid!” she said, heartily slapping him in the back.

* * *

 

“Heh, not bad. For a coupla hours’ work. I should be your manager.”

“Yes, you really should,” said Ignis dryly.

“With a 40% cut-”

“10%”

“Hey, with my negotiation skills, I’d say 20.”

“Fifteen.”

“Thirteen.”

“Eleven, and that’s final.”

“Ugh, you drive a hard bargain.”  

He smiled, his lips curling around the edge of the teacup as he stared at her over the rim. They were back at Noctis’s apartment, enjoying a spot of tea since it _was_ that time of the day and she did promise him three meals together. Aranea had commandeered the entire sofa, sprawling over it as she tried to eat some cake without spilling any crumbs. Ignis had already berated her over her blatant disregard of using coasters. She didn’t need him to start another lecture about cleanliness.

He’d noticed her limping the moment she liberated herself from her boots. Her now sorry and abused feet were now on the armrest, propped up by a cushion.

“Did you really call me a coffee sex god?”

“Hey, it’s all part of the sales pitch, okay? Just go easy on the product. Take too much at once and your cum will taste like coffee.”

Ignis choked on his drink. She waited until the coughing had subsided.

“It’s pure fact, y’know,” she went on. “I didn’t make it up.”

“Speaking from personal experience, are you?” he managed, reaching over for a tissue to dab his streaming eyes.

Aranea hesitated. “During the years of my - ah, shall we say...misspent youth, I may have hung out with people who have willingly participated in several...uhm, _experimental_ endeavours.”

“With other people? Or just you?”

She shot him a sideways look, a crafty smile curling up the corners of her lips. “Suspicious, are we? Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’re _jelly...?”_

“Of the notches on your bedpost? Why should I?”

“Ooh...so your résumé’s way more extensive than mine? Wow. I gotcha.” She winked at him. He shook his head, no longer interested in pursuing this thread of conversation.

“Still…” she went on. “I could give you a try. Just to prove my point.”

He stared at her, half-expecting her to burst out laughing and shout: “Kidding! Hahah!”

But instead, she quirked up a brow, issuing him a saucy stare as she said: “You want that?”  

Aranea, on her knees, sucking him off while making the most lascivious noises? Oh, bloody hell yes, please. But it wasn’t just her mouth that he was very much interested in.

“What shall we do about dinner?” he found himself asking.

“You’re cashing in on that already? Are you _really_ just finding an excuse to spend more time with me?”

“I don’t need a reason to spend time with you.”

“Is that a good or bad thing?”

“Take it however you will.” After deciding that she wouldn’t be dropping anymore conversational bombshells anytime soon, he took a cautious sip of his tea. “You know, sooner or later we _will_ have to talk about it.”

“About what?”

“Julian.”

He noticed her pause as she pushed around the cake on her plate. She eventually straightened up and set it down on the coffee table. “What else d’you wanna know?”

“His education. What are your plans regarding that?”

“It’s not even confirmed yet whether or not I’d get him back. I mean - of _course_ I want him back. But things are still dicey...y’know? I’d rather be cautiously optimistic.”

“Still. It is prudent to be prepared for every eventuality.”

She sighed. “Can’t argue with that. Look, I can’t just put him in a public school. I _would_ if I could. But he’s not Lucian. There’s _tons_ of red tape I’ve to jump over. So the only alternative was private schools - which is fucking expensive, I’d like to add. And the whole thing didn’t work out because of that bullying incident. He’d been so scared to go back ever since, so he ended up being homeschooled. Ardyn arranged for tutors to come over and teach him, and that’s it.”

“But ever since your divorce, how does that arrangement stand?”

“Beats me. I dunno if he’s continuing his lessons, or stopped altogether. The only way public schools could work is if he becomes a naturalized Lucian citizen. I’d have to provide proof that he’s been living here, but given _my_ own nationality status, it’d be months before anyone would even look into my application.”

“And by the time that happens, he’d already be far behind from his peers. That just won’t do.”

“Yeah. So maybe you could abuse your elite status, wave your hands and make some magic happen?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

She smiled. “Great. I hate private schools. I just want him in a normal environment, y’know?”

“I can suggest Noct’s old school, for starters. Noct could write to the principal, personally vouching for Julian. Hm, yes. That is possible.”

“Wow, I didn’t think anything cool would ever come out of being friends with you guys, but now I see it. I really should chuck my old passport and join you.”

“I will not abuse my status on your account,” he said sternly. “You’d still have to go through the proper channels like everyone else.”

“Like memorize the flag colours and stuff?”

“And pay taxes. It is a requirement.”

“Or I could just marry you.”

And there it was. Aranea had finally revealed her poker hand, effectively raising the stakes. It was all he could do to not completely lose his mind at that moment. He stared at her, scarcely believing what she just said. Surely it was done in the spirit of jest, yes? Cid was right all along, bless him. She’s proving to be so adept at changing the beat. Well, now she’s going to see how well he improvises.

She must’ve misread his expression, for she then said: “Or not. Kidding. Just wanna see your reaction. Forget I ever said anything, alright?” There was a sheepish tone in her voice. She was probably silently berating herself for being so foolish. He watched as she lay back, slinging an arm over her eyes as if she was getting ready to sleep.

Carefully, he set down his cup. He then got up. She heard the rustle of his clothes and assumed that he was getting ready to leave. But then she felt a swish of air and caught a whiff of his _eau de toilette_ as he stood over her. She jumped slightly when she felt him lift her feet, maneuver himself onto the sofa, and then place her feet onto his lap.

His fingers started to knead her right instep, applying enough pressure to soothe the aches away. They deftly moved over her sole, sending spikes of butterfly-light tickles up her calf and inner thigh.

Slowly, she removed her arm and craned her neck up to look at him. He gazed back at her, brilliant emerald shades boring straight into her soul, and for the briefest of moments she believed that he could read her mind. His thumb hit a particularly delicious spot, and she grunted, wondering how his strong, clever fingers could touch her feet as intimately as a secret lover’s kiss. He slid his other hand up her calf - effectively pushing her trouser leg almost up to her knee - and then proceeded to squeeze and knead the muscles there.

“Ooh, that’s really nice,” she groaned, letting her head drop back.

He let out an affirmative hum. He may not be able to save her from all the other sticky situations she’d found herself in. But he could definitely save her delicate feet from blisters and bunions. He observed the shape of her ankle, the bones forming her arch, skin rippling over them from his ministrations. He didn’t quite understand foot fetish, but looking at her now, he thinks he’s starting to develop one. And judging from the noises she was making, she was clearly enjoying this. And it was only a bloody foot massage!

A certain pride boosted his ego. It was him, doing this to her. Not some other man. But of course, looking at her recent track record, he felt that the bar was set low enough for him to surpass it in leaps and bounds.  

She’d lifted herself up on her elbows, watching him intently. It was almost sinful, seeing him touch her like this. And she couldn’t even explain why. He’d slightly raised her leg, supporting the back of her knee with one hand, while the other was placed at the ball of her foot, firmly pressing against it until her foot was at 90 degrees, effectively stretching her calf muscles. Luckily she remembered to shave that day, so now her legs were silky smooth. God bless Venus triple bladed razors. A huff of his breath fanned over her shin, soft and only slightly warm, but it was enough to stir something deep and primal inside her womb.

She had to be ovulating, she thought, as a flush began to creep up beneath her collar and spread right up to her cheeks. Yes, she had to be. When was the last time she had sex? Six, seven months ago? Probably not even proper sex. Just something routine she and Ardyn did because it was a husband and wife thing to do. She’s practically a virgin now, with the way things were going. Well - obviously not _virgin_ virgin. Sheesh.

There’s probably a song about this somewhere. Like a virgin. Touched for the very first time. Hah! What the hell was she doing? Thinking about fucking songs when all she wanted was to just fuck. Those fingers of his would be of much better use probing her elsewhere...

She finally managed to unscramble pieces of her brain. “What’re you doing?”

He looked at her, and she felt like spontaneously combusting. “What does it look like I’m doing?”  

In response, she lifted up her other foot, touching his knee with her tippy toe. She waited. When he didn’t react, she began a slow ascent, running it up his thigh, applying _just_ enough pressure. She was nearing his crotch when she felt his ministrations falter. She smiled a wicked, wicked little smile. She slid down to his inner thigh...

“Aranea,” he said warningly, dangerously. His tone was low, and so, so full of want.

She let out a soft laugh. “What?” she said, innocent as a kitten.  

“Don’t start what you cannot finish.”

“Oh, you want a good finish, do you?” Pulling her legs away, she sat up. She stared at him as he stared at her. His breathing seemed slightly heavier now, the outline of his chest pressing against the thin material of his shirt. Oh, how she wanted to just rip his buttons off and climb on top of him.

Her eyes traced the delectable Cupid’s bow of his lips.

She leaned over and started kissing him.

* * *

 

 **Next episode: Gettin’ hot and heavy...**  


	14. Lights, Camera, Tension!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cor just had to come along and ruin the party.

She clambered onto his lap, and suddenly Ignis’s hands was full of Aranea. Arms locked firmly around his neck, she kissed him with wild abandon, hungrily drinking from him as he did from her. A hand slid down his face, holding him in place as she angled her head, effectively deepening the kiss. 

He’d been abstained from her touch for far too long. With the sensations of her breasts, her thighs and her hips against him, he was surely going mad from delirium. He broke away from her, fastening his mouth onto her neck, suckling and biting until she cried out in pleasure. Her breath sounded harsh in his ear when his hands found her buttocks and thrusts her closer to him. Oh, dear God. If she keeps on rocking herself like that, he’s surely going to come undone soon.

Feeling impatient that her mouth wasn’t receiving the attention it deserved, she grabbed his face again and started kissing him. A spike of arousal jolted her spine, urgently reminding her that she’s still unsated. She ground her hips once again into his groin, earning a needy moan from him. 

She smiled against his mouth, relishing the power she knew she had over him. Heat bloomed within her veins at the thought, warming up the perfume she’d spritzed over her skin. Suddenly kissing her was like kissing vanilla with spikes and iron, like teetering on the sharp edge of a blade. She was midnight, she was the dark side of the moon. And him? Well, he was content on letting her do whatever she pleases with him.         

He didn’t realize his shirt was open until he felt her fingertips touching his chest, feathery light and experimental, as if trying to remember once again how he liked to be touched. She bent over, running the flat of her tongue over his sternum, tracing his collarbone and trailing up his jugular. She playfully tugged at his earlobe with her teeth and laughed.

She’d laughed.

The saucy minx.

She let out a surprised yelp when she suddenly found herself flat on her back. Two can play at this game. He ground himself against her, hard and fast. She let in a ragged gasp, moaning out an incoherent word. A word that was really unnecessary at this point. He knew what he wanted, and so did she. Already he could feel her arousal through her jeans, and suddenly he was cursing at the fact that they still had too much clothing on. 

He nipped at her jawline again, fingers diving beneath the hem of her shirt in a frenzied need to seek the heated flesh within. She arched her back and let out a soft laugh when he’d inadvertently tickled her. That movement pushed her harder against his straining erection, and suddenly his world was filled with visions of her lying in bed, legs spread and one hand braced against the headboard as her whole body shook from his thrusts. 

“Aranea,” he whispered; a benediction, a curse, a plea for mercy. She was the best of him, and she was also the worst of him. 

She hummed, opening her eyes to look at him. What he suddenly saw swimming within the deeper pools of her irises gave him reason to pause.

If they really gave themselves this, would it change anything between them? Or would they regress once more, finally sated but unhappy with the outcome? 

Ever since she got back from Tenebrae, she’d seemed the same to him, and yet at the same time...different. Her gaze had sometimes been too distant, her smile sometimes bordering on the shade of wan. Something must’ve happened while she was there, and he couldn’t help but wonder what.

“Hey,” she said laughingly. “What’s goin’ on in that head of yours? Don’t tell me you’re analyzing?” She was already reaching down, undoing his belt buckle.

He sighed. “Stop. We shouldn’t do this.”

She leaned in again to kiss him. “What’re you talking about? There’s a perfectly-”

“Aranea…” he gently but firmly pulled away her hands. “No.”

She started, looking visibly taken aback. “You’re saying no. To me? Now, of all times?”

_ “Especially _ now,” he said, letting her push him as she wriggled away beneath him. She sat up, looking peevish and utterly rejected as she straightened up her clothes. He hated himself for doing what he did. “I want you...but not like this.”

“Hyeah, you’ve already made that pretty damn obvious!” she snapped. “The hell is this all about?”

“You’re still hurting. And there’s still things that I need to come to terms with. We deserve so much more than this. Furthermore, I will  _ not _ be your rebound. We both need to respect that.”

She glared at him. “Don’t you dare tell  _ me  _ whether I’m ready or not! If you don’t want this, fine. Just don’t turn me into some noble pity fuck!”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way,” he said. The situation was unraveling fast, and he needed to do some damage control. “We’re both in a transitory period. You’ve still got your divorce settlement pending, while I’m still preparing myself for Julian. Adding sex into the mix isn’t going to make things easier. If anything else, I think it’s going to cloud our judgement.” 

She suddenly grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, curling her upper lip and baring her canines. For a moment she seemed wild and feral, and for a moment he realized - with crystal clear clarity - that she’s going to  _ ravish _ him if she doesn’t get what she wants.

And the funny thing was: he’s absolutely going to let her. Damn all his ‘no sex’ talk.

“Lemme tell you somethin’ about clouding my judgement,” she hissed. “Last week I saw Gladio training in the Crownsguard hall, shirtless.  _ Shirtless!  _ And then later he accidentally brushed against me while we were in the lift. It was all I could do to not climb him like a tree and start dry humping him.” She brought her face closer - not to kiss him, but to growl rather ominously: “I’ve got needs. Ya hear me?  _ Urgent _ needs. And if they’re not met soon, I think I - I swear I’m gonna do something  _ drastic!”  _

He could feel the tension thrumming through her thighs. She was already coiled tighter than a spring, and he thought how fantastic it’s going to be when they finally consummate their relationship for the second time. His groin stirred once more at all his filthy imaginings. 

“I’m not saying that we wait forever. I’m merely suggesting that perhaps it is better for us to get to know each other first,” he said, making a mental note to remind Gladiolus to train with all his clothes on. 

She looked momentarily confused. “You mean, like  _ dating?” _

“Precisely. Dating. We never explored that avenue the first time we met,” he went on as she released him. And because he felt it was stupid trying to have a serious conversation with his shirt open, he redid the buttons. “Considering our...situation now is vastly different from then, I thought that you might be more amenable to the idea. I know I am.”    

“Oh, God. You’re not one of those people who believes in that second virginity crap, are you?”

“No. What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Nothing. I just...nevermind.”  

“Something happened in Tenebrae, didn’t it?” It wasn’t an accusation. Wasn’t a chastisement. His tone was gentle, understanding. 

She gnawed on her upper lip. Her mouth was slightly open, and he knew the answer was there on her tongue, poised over the edge and ready to leap out. But of course she wouldn’t give it up, oh no. Aranea was a difficult woman. She had a pride that was both fascinating and infuriating. 

It was precisely at that moment when his phone decided to ring. It was Noctis.

“This is why I think we shouldn’t rush things. We did that the last time, and look at how well it ended,” said Ignis, before answering the call. 

Aranea got up and started pacing. When pacing became too much, she went to the kitchen for a glass of water. She had to move, somehow. Do something with her hands, because if she stayed still, she’d start thinking, and the thoughts that were jostling around the edges of her mind weren’t something that she wanted to deal with. 

God, why can’t it be just about sex, dammit? She’d be fine with the arrangement, and they didn’t have to deal with all the other complicated stuff like talking, and - yeugh! - understanding each other. But Ignis wanted it to be  _ meaningful.  _ Probably needed to change his social media status or something. ‘In a relationship’, or ‘Getting serious with someone’. Aranea just preferred to maintain it to ‘It’s complicated’.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get back to the office.” Somehow within a span of five minutes, he’d managed to put himself back together again. Such was the power of the Royal Advisor. “Duty calls. As always.” 

“Hm, yeah. Ok. What’re you still doin’ here, then?” 

He stared at her, something incomprehensible within his expression. “I needed to make sure that you’re alright.”

“You can see that I am.” 

He took a step closer. “Are _ we _ alright?”

“Wouldn’t be talkin’ if we weren’t.”

He kissed her, softly. Gently. She pressed herself against him in a last-ditch attempt to entice him. His arm snaked around her waist and stayed there. 

Sighing against her mouth, he said: “I know what you’re doing, and you’re not making this any easier.”

“Good. ‘Coz I’m not planning on being easy.” 

“That’s what I like about you.”  

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“I know that, dearest. I know that.” 

After he’d left, she found herself needing to do something again. Staring at the sofa and imagining what could’ve transpired there wasn’t helping her to calm down.

So she attacked her sling bag, which had been lying next to the couch since she got back from Tenebrae. Upending its contents onto the coffee table, she watched as several mishmash items rained down - a phone charger, sanitary pads, a packet of tissues, a coin purse, a USB stick, several makeup items, a small notebook and pen…

...and a pharmacy plastic bag.  

Mystified, she poured out the plastic bag’s contents. Two jumbo packs of condoms and a bottle of lubricant slid out. She scowled. They were Biggs’s. He’d asked if he could leave them in her bag, since she was now a goddamn shopping mule for her crew.  

The irony of it all. She felt like the condoms were staring at her, winking mockingly as they sang:  _ ‘Nyaa haa haaaa! You didn’t get any today!’.  _ She growled and stuffed them back into the bag. If Biggs was screwing his way through the entire population of Eos, then he’s definitely in a far better shape than she was right now.

* * *

 

There was a hen night party going on at the bar at the moment. Half a dozen giggling young women, all dressed in matching pink t-shirts. One of them had a plastic tiara on. They were making a ruckus, laughing too loudly, spilling too many drinks onto the counter. At one point they’d accidentally knocked over the peanut bowl. They didn’t even bother picking it back up. 

Then they’d demanded the bartender to put up a show - juggling bottles and doing fancy tricks with a martini glass. The bartender just looked at them in the eyes and told them to fuck off. In a polite way, of course. 

He then approached the other sole patron sitting at the far end of the bar. Aranea looked up when another drink was slid towards her. 

“On the house,” said the bartender. “I’m sorry about the noise. We tend to get this kind of group sometimes. I’d much prefer to serve a bunch of disgruntled middle-aged salarymen compared to those yahoos. At least those men tip generously. I don’t think I’d get anything from those girls.” 

“They might flash their tits at you, hoping to get a free drink,” said Aranea.

The bartender smiled. “Is that so? Well, consider me fairly warned, then.” 

“They brought out the penis cake yet?”

“Penis cake? As in - penis-shaped-”

“Cake, yes. Sometimes they’d do that. Probably to symbolize the last moment of freedom. One dick, for the rest of her life. Sumthin’ like that.”

“Y’know, I  _ might _ have noticed one of them walking in with a cake box earlier,” said the bartender thoughtfully. “If it did turn out to be the esteemed penis cake, I’ll report back to you?”

“Attaboy.” They fistbumped each other.  

The bell hanging above the front door chimed, indicating that someone had walked in. 

“Welcome, sir!” the bartender called out. 

Aranea looked to see who the newcomer was.

It was Cor.

She stared back at her drink. Great. This was turning into one of those really bad racist jokes.  _ I say, I say... a Lucian and an Imperial walked into a bar...and they weren’t fighting! Haahaaa! Ba-dum-dush!   _

She saw him, at the corner of her eye, stopping next to her as he surveyed the other noisy bunch. 

“Mind if I sit with you?” he said.

Wordlessly, she gestured to the empty seat. He slid onto the stool, making eye contact with the bartender, who went over to him. 

“Good evening, sir,” he said pleasantly, wiping the countertop with a damp cloth. “What’ll it be?” 

“Shochu on the rocks, please.”

“Ooh, and some peanuts too,” said Aranea.

“Comin’ right up.” 

“You come here often?” asked Cor after the bartender had left. 

“First time here. Had to get out of the apartment. Searched for some places to go, this was recommended, and here I am. Didn’t expect to be stuck with  _ that _ group, though,” she said, as another bout of raucous laughter reached them. She heard one of the girls exclaim: ‘Ohmygahd, I didn’t expect they’d make it  _ that _ big!’. 

“How much longer are you staying at the King’s suite?”

She paused with her drink halfway to her lips. “Already eager to kick me out, are you?” 

“I only wish to make it clear that his hospitality is not to be abused in any way.”

Ah. Subtlety of a hammer, as always.

“Oh, don’t worry. I know when I’m not welcome. You’ve already made that obvious the moment you walked in through that door.” 

She’d met Cor before, sometimes passing by him in the Citadel lobby, sometimes sharing a lift. But they never get off the same floor. Word has it that he’s been busy training Crownsguard recruits. When she was first formally introduced to him, he treated her to a long, hard stare - like a father meeting a potential daughter-in-law - and found a lot of things about her that he didn’t like, and even more things that he hated. 

With his flinty looks and no-nonsense attitude, he would’ve looked right at home in a trenchcoat and fedora hat, snarling about dames and smoking guns while chewing on the end of a damp cigarette like a bona fide noir crime antihero. His detective name would probably be Cor Steele or something cheesy like that, and his novel cover would feature him posing with a bullet hole and - for whatever stupid reason - a red rose. 

His drink arrived, as were her peanuts. Suddenly she didn’t want any.  

“I’ll be blunt. I don’t trust you.”

She smiled a tight, sardonic smile. “Hah. I wouldn’t trust myself too.” 

“Noctis told me Ignis went AWOL today. Off gallivanting with you, I presume?”

“Gallivant? I doubt he’d even know how. No - we were at the recording studio. Doing some music arrangement for the video.” Ha, she made a rhyme. At least what she’s saying was half the truth. 

“And it takes the whole day? He’d already missed two important meetings. Noctis was looking for him all over.”

“He could’ve just called.” 

“He  _ did.  _ Ignis switched off his phone. Which is a first, I might add.” 

Shit. The Ebony recording. Ignis could’ve said that he was busy, but he didn’t. How the hell was  _ she _ supposed to know what his schedule was?!

“Always a first time for everything.” She caught Cor’s glare. “No? Well,  _ I  _ didn’t ask him to do it, if that’s what you’re implying. We were out on official business. We weren’t dicking about. If this whole thing is because he didn’t answer some calls, then you’re really making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Just what are you planning to do with him?” 

She runs her finger around the inner rim of her whiskey glass. She’d painted her nails tonight, just to look fancy. But with the kind of mood Cor was bringing to the table, she now felt like the Burgundy Rose colour was a waste of time. 

“Do? Mainly M-rated stuff. But of course you don’t need to know that,” she said. “That’s not what you meant, is it?” 

“No.”

“Then why don’t you just cut the shit and tell me what you  _ really _ mean? You think I’m a spy? An agent provocateur? You think this is some elaborate ruse dreamed up by the Empire in their attempt to weaken the king’s hold to the throne? You think I popped out Ignis’s kid just so that I could use it as a political leverage? Which one is it?” 

“I think you’re trouble.”

“Well, you’ve got that part right, at least.” She sighed. “Start thinkin’ about conspiracy theories and you’ll see ‘em everywhere. Listen: I don’t need to explain myself to you.”

“As a matter of fact, you do.” 

“The Empire doesn’t care about me. No country would care about me. I only care about myself. That clear enough for ya? You won’t believe me, obviously. ‘Coz the only answer you’re expecting is the answer that  _ you _ wanna hear.” 

The bartender reappeared, this time bearing a plate. 

“Compliments of the hen night ladies,” he said with a sigh, setting it down before them. “It is indeed a penis cake, and they were generous enough to offer you the...ah, tip.” He laid out some napkins and two gleaming forks. “They gave me some too.” 

Aranea stared at the monstrous thing with its ugly flesh-coloured icing. Did the person who made this even add pubic hair for realism? She didn’t want to know.

“Well, well,” she said. “I daresay this dick’s circumcised. What about yours?”

Cor shot her a glare. His sense of humour was clearly worse than Ignis’s.    

“He got played by you once,” he said. 

“What d’you care about his personal life? He’s a grown-ass man. Whatever happens he can handle it.” 

“He’s taking a big leap, trusting you again.”

“Yeah? Well, I spent 12 years married to one of the biggest assholes in the continent. This ain’t just a leap for me. I’m jumpin’ off an airship without a goddamn parachute. What I feel, and what I think about him is nobody’s business but my own.” She glanced down and added: “And I sure as hell feel awkward talking about this when there’s a literally penis head between us.” 

She knew men like Cor, because there were parts of him within her too. He was dedicated - perhaps too dedicated - and he cared. There may not be a bleeding heart lying underneath all that gruff and tough exterior, but he still had a heart, nonetheless. 

Years of training the boys had developed a somewhat...paternal concern for them. He’d seen the game, played the game, and probably lost. And now he didn’t want Ignis to make the same second mistake. Maybe it’s stupid to assume that Ignis would fall because of a woman, but Aranea now realized that she really was in an advantageous position. If she’d played her cards right, she could steer him in any direction she wanted. 

_ If _ she wanted.

But she didn’t. Her life at this point wasn’t a series of checkmates. All she wanted was for people to just leave her the hell alone and let her do her own thing. But even  _ that _ was too much to ask.  

“Y’know, this might sound like a good plot for an espionage movie, but no - it’s actually just a simple story. We met, had a thing, and that’s it. It’s not even a good love story. Heck, I wouldn’t even pay to watch the film adaptation.” 

“I don’t think you quite understand the situation Ignis is in right now.”

“No, s’matter of fact, I don’t. So why don’t you enlighten me?” There was another thing she’d discovered about Cor - he tolerated rudeness and backtalk, but only to a certain extent. He probably secretly enjoyed it even, pushing people to see how they pushed back.  

“The king is an entity. An organization. He isn’t just one person. Every part of his kingdom, form every part of him. Now, you’ve probably got Ignis all interested in your little cunt, but I’ll be damned if he starts to neglect - or deviate from - his duties because of you. When that happens, you and I are gonna have a  _ big _ problem with each other.”

She let out a bark of laughter, harsh and bitter even to her own ears. “You threatening me, Marshal?” 

“More like a prediction. And I tend to be very correct.”

“Whoa, just hold on a second. I’m not some  _ femme fatale _ you’d like to imagine me to be. I’m just me: a commoner lookin’ out for my next paycheque. If Lucis is gonna fall, it won’t be because of me.” She finished up the final dregs of her drink. “And don’t you worry about my cunt. It’s all nicely tucked away in my pants because Ignis hasn’t even seen, touched or smelled it yet. But I’ll keep you updated once he does. With pictures  _ and _ audio.” 

She spun out of her seat, getting ready to leave when she spotted two people standing right behind them. She stopped short. They were from the hen night party. She could now see what was written on their t-shirts. It says: ‘One Hen, Five Chicks, No COCKS!’. Holy shit.   

“Excuse me,” said the first girl, flashing a set of bleached teeth. She was like an overdose of peroxide and tanning beds. “We were, like, wondering if you could just say a few words for our friend Becky over there. She’s getting married tomorrow, so if you could just, y’know, say something funny or whatever, we’ll compile it into the video too.” 

She was brandishing a camera. Aranea looked at it as if it was a weapon. 

“Well, I - er,” she burbled. “This is awkward. We don’t even know each other.”

“It’s okay! We figured that the more random strangers we could get, the more special it’s gonna be. ‘Coz nothing’s scripted, you see? And besides, we shared a cake. So that already makes us cake buddies!” 

“Hah, yeah...the penis cake. That’s really, uhm, somethin’.” 

The first girl raised the camera, already switching it to record mode. Aranea found herself staring at the the red light and wondering if everyone felt awkward in front of a camera like she did. “Whenever you’re ready,” the girl prompted. “Just say whatever.”

“Okay. Whatever,” she said with an offhanded shrug. The girls laughed. 

“C’mon, a good luck wish...anything that pops up in your mind,” said the second girl. “The crazier it is the better.” 

Aranea glanced at Cor, who’d steadfastly refused to acknowledge the girls. He’d kept his back turned towards them, and for some reason that pisses her off. She looked back at the camera.

“Uh...hi, Becky. You obviously don’t know me, but since I’m considered an accomplice now, due to a certain cake, I - uh, I guess I’d have to say somethin’,” she said.

It was a shaky start, but the girls made encouraging motions, telling her to carry on. 

“Congrats on your marriage. I’m sure you’re pretty stoked right now. Enjoy the buzz while it still lasts. Tomorrow you’re literally gonna be at the center of everyone’s attention. Well - everyone who’s at your wedding, that is. Celebrate your final moments of freedom, and brace yourself for the honeymoon…’coz it’s gonna be intense, it’s gonna be memorable, and it’s gonna end far sooner than you’d expect.”

And because the whiskey had taken over the driver’s seat and switched off all of her filters, effectively nudging aside her facilities and grabbing the mic in her brain, it added: 

“You’ll go back to that home you’re gonna be spending the rest of your lives with. Fast forward seven, ten years from now, he won’t find you as interesting as you were when you guys first met. And he’s gonna wonder: what happened to that fantastic and fun girl I fell in love with? We used to have sex on the beach and now it’s five minute quickies while waiting for the washer to be done.”

Aranea wasn’t quite sure, but she could’ve sworn she heard a snicker from Cor, who’d quickly disguised it with a cough.

“After starin’ at the same vagina for years, he’d be wanting a new playground, ya know? There’s some kinky shit he’s been wanting to try, but you’re just not up for it ‘coz you’re too exhausted from the kids and the housework, and he’s got this set of blue balls that needs takin’ care of. So what does he do? He’ll jerk off to some online porn star. He’s probably gonna fuck your best friend too, or his secretary.”

The girls’ smiles were slowly evaporating when it finally dawned on them that this wasn’t the sunshine and roses speech they were expecting. 

“You’re gonna find out, because guys are  _ shitty _ at keeping these things secret. Shitty, I tell you. You’ll get divorced, get the house and kids, while he leaves and you’ll be sittin’ on the bed that you two used to sleep on and wonder how it went wrong. Then you’ll start reminiscing about your wedding, and  _ this very night,  _ where you’ll remember some random stranger giving you a  _ very _ accurate prediction of how your marriage’s gonna end up. You’ll wish that you’d taken her advice, which is: run. Run like your fucking life depends on it. Don’t get sucked into this whole marriage schtick. It’s all a  _ fucking _ lie.” Aranea stopped, thinking that she’d already ranted enough. They should get the message now, and if they don’t, there’s always the rewind button. There’s also the delete button too...not that she cared. She wished that  _ her _ life had a rewind and delete button. 

“In case you’re wondering who the hell I am, I’m Aranea Highwind,” she added, “and this is me giving you marriage truth bombs.” Great, now she sounds like she’s got her own talk show. 

Fishing out a couple of gil notes from her pocket, she slammed it onto the countertop and left. She tottered out of the bar, fingers already tapping on her phone as she tried to get herself an Uber ride. Awesome. There’s one two minutes away. She really didn’t know how she’d react if Cor or anyone from the hen night party were to come after her just to pick a fight. She’d probably do a lot of shouting and embarrass herself in public. 

The moment she reached the apartment, she quickly washed off her makeup and changed into something for bed. She vaguely remembered to shoot Ignis a message, because that’s probably what you should do to someone you’re playing tonsil hockey with. Right? Or has the dating game changed since she last played it? Hmph, maybe not.  

She attempted to take a duckface selfie, but all she could manage was to send him a blurry something followed by the caption ‘Gppd nifgtzzzz’. She’d even tacked on a sleepy emoji at the end just in case he was too dense to not get what she meant.

Then, tossing aside her phone onto the mattress, she rolled over and went to sleep.

Only to wake up the next morning with a minor hangover, seventy missed calls, thirty-five messages, and more than 600 newsfeed notifications. 

She blearily scrolled through them. The first few screamed at her, telling her to check out some link. The next batch was by no means more urgent than the previous ones, but it was the direct message from King Noctis that finally made her sit up and stare in horror. 

_ Come to my office. At once. _

It was as if the very words were written in bold text and red ink, conveying the exact amount of urgency it carried. She checked the link. Read the headlines. Swore loudly. Watched the tagged in video clip. Facepalmed herself and buried her head into the pillows, wishing there was a hole deep enough for her to just crawl in and die. 

Her phone rang. It was Ignis.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. I’m on my way. What? You’ll come and fetch me?” she sighed, massaging her temples with her thumb and middle finger. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah. I’ll be ready. Bye.”

She hung up.

She stared blankly into space.

“Oh, fuck a duck.”

* * *

**Next episode: Aranea commits a PR blunder.**


	15. You Know I’m No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a day of gifts for Aranea - one which she appreciates, and one which she does not. Plus, she explains to Noctis exactly why the worst sex position is the 69.

The line ‘What were you thinking?’ was a classic anthem for stupidity; a nomenclature for questioning a person’s sanity and decision-making capabilities. Aranea had asked herself that and been asked that so many times now she’d already lost count. 

It would’ve been better if Ignis shouted. And he had been known to raise his voice on occasion. But now he spoke to her in a disappointed tone, which only made it a thousand times worse. And so she sat next to him, head leaning against the window as the city passed her by, listening to his lecture about propriety. 

“Honestly, Aranea. What were you thinking?” 

“I’m thinking that I wasn’t in my right mind, and I made a mistake. Anyway, why am I the only one getting the flak here? Cor was there as well!”

“Marshal? What were you two doing?” he asked, frowning in a way that made her want to reach over and smooth out those twin grooves between his brows.

“Having a drink. It wasn’t planned! I was there first, and then  _ he  _ came in. We even had cake.”

“Well,  _ he _ wasn’t the one who made that asinine speech-”

“Since when does being honest is asinine?”

“Look at who you’re working with!” He pursed his lips, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as he tried to keep his emotions in check. 

“We can still fix this. I’ll find a way to do it. I’m good at handlin’ these things. You  _ know _ that. For now just...just pull that tampon outta your ass, okay?”

He sighed. “Ludo called. He’s arranged to see us later. For now, let’s just survive this meeting.”

* * *

That peroxide hussy who’d filmed Aranea last night had her own video channel called CutieLuvr. It had 7 million subscribers. Her other blogging site had a close to 1 million followers. Last year she was named one of the social media influencers below 30. And all that was from dispensing makeup tutorials, relationship advice, and random stupid challenges.

Frankly, Aranea couldn’t care less about the numbers. But she of all people knew those numbers matter, especially in social media; and now CutieLuvr has posted a viral video shaming her and questioning her character, especially after finding out who she  _ really  _ was. 

Aranea sunk lower into her chair, a pair of oversized sunglasses shielding her eyes from the too bright sunlight filtering into the office. She didn’t have to watch the video - she already knew what she’d said by heart. 

_ “-Run like your fucking life depends on it. Don’t get sucked into this whole marriage schtick. It’s all a fucking lie.” _

Silence reigned as the video ended. Suddenly she realized that everyone was looking at her. She immediately straightened up.

“I’m sorry, ok?” she said. “I thought that it was just a harmless video they’re gonna post on their private group for shits and giggles. How the hell was I supposed to know that she’s the - what’s that thing she’s famous for again?”

“Takoyaki Challenge,” said Iris. “It’s where she tries to fit in as many takoyaki balls in her mouth.”

“Pfft. Takoyaki Challenge,” Aranea said scornfully. “Really? I bet she does that with her boyfriend’s balls  _ all _ the time, so that’s hardly a challenge.” 

Iris’s expression said it all:  _ Really. _

Aranea sighed, sitting back as she watched the array of faces before her. Iris and two of her team members. Ignis. And last but not least: Noctis himself, elbow on the desk, two fingers pressing his left temple as he watched the entire proceeding in silence. Probably it was the lighting, but he had dark circles beneath his eyes, and his cheeks seemed more sunken than usual. The stress from the job was getting to him, and suddenly she felt extremely guilty for adding to his troubles.  

She felt a firm tap on her arm. Ignis motioned towards her sunglasses, a stern expression on his face. She took it off - rather grudgingly - scrunching her eyes against the glare. A sudden spike of pain lanced through her head. Ooh, today’s gonna be a real shitty day.  

“You already know the importance of image,” said Ignis. “For as long as your association with the king is known, it is imperative that you exercise a certain measure of decorum wherever you go. That clip of your so-called ‘marriage truth bombs’ has possibly set back whatever work you’ve done with us so far. Your audience - and in this effect, Noctis’s audience - will start to question you. Everything about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if they already have, after seeing this.”

“On a plus side, there has been several comments that support her,” one of Iris’s colleagues spoke up. He had his laptop open and he was scrolling through the screen, reading out a few notable ones: “‘Cheers! Well said!’; ‘Truth always hurts. Can’t handle it, don’t do it.’; ‘People should really know what they’re getting themselves into.’; ‘Doing the big M? Listen to Lady A first.’”

“Ok, that last one  _ has  _ to be either from Biggs or Wedge. Nobody else calls me that,” said Aranea.  

“Most are still criticizing her, though.”

“Hey, I says it as I sees it.”

“That’s not helping, Aranea,” said Ignis. “Your words do not inspire confidence. How could it not? You an embittered, vindictive harpy who happens to be promoting the wedding of the century. That’s the kind of image you’re projecting to everyone. Now, we’re all aware of the problems that you’re facing, and we  _ do _ empathize...but if you play the ‘hell hath no fury’ card far too often, you’re just going to be a troublesome person who can’t see the world beyond her own nose.” 

Aranea knew that she ought to be angry. Indignant, even. Who the hell was  _ he _ to judge how she should feel? But this was Ignis she was dealing with. He was the paragon of logic and pragmatism. Whatever he says came from a higher level of thinking, and that level requires little to no amount of emotion. She was so caught up in her own shitstorm, that she didn’t care to think that she had an actual  _ job  _ to do. There were people counting on her, and Julian was one of them. Feeling so goddamn miserable about herself wasn’t helping any. That’s what Ignis was really trying to say.    

“The good news is, search trends on the royal wedding has spiked after that video was released,” said Iris. “It’s number one in the Google trends stats, followed by ‘Aranea Highwind’, and...and, um,” the girl blushed at this point. “‘King Noctis naked’.” 

Aranea burst out laughing. “Really? There’s naked pictures of you out there? Holy shit!”

“Of  _ course  _ there isn’t,” Ignis countered hotly. “Even if there is, it’d be one of those horrible composites done by unscrupulous individuals.”

“Photoshopped? Damn, I love the internet.”  

A heavily pregnant silence fell upon them, as if something was expected out of her. 

“Look - whatever I said last night...it came from a really dark place, alright? You all know that I’ve been...struggling with a personal issue. And I know that what I did wasn’t professional. Again, I’m really sorry. I’ll fix it. I promise. And I’ll make sure that it’ll never happen again...for as long as I’m working with you guys,” she said.

“Do you really mean it? About marriage being a lie?” Noctis had finally spoken up. 

Aranea hesitated, sensing that she had to choose her words  _ very  _ carefully. “Like everything else, if done right, it works. It - it’s pretty much a 24/7 job. What you do - and what you don’t do - to each other matters. That’s the point I was trying to get across to those girls, but unfortunately it came out as if I was - as you’ve summed it up nicely - an embittered, vindictive harpy.  _ Thank you,  _ Scientia.”

“How’re you planning to fix this?”

Shit. Tylenol. She needs Tylenol STAT. It’s hard to think with all this pounding going on. “We could spin this. Press our advantage. Make it seem like that recording was all part of the promotional plan. We shoot a video of myself addressing the incident, then I start talking about the positive aspects of marriage. I mean, first I was presenting the problem, then this one I’m giving a solution - appreciate your partner, etc. Then we toss in a couple of behind-the-scenes footage. The point is to keep the conversation going. Give ‘em content, and they’ll start talking.” 

“But it can’t just be  _ any _ content,” said Iris. “Give them bad ones and they’ll know that it’s fake.”

And Aranea thought:  _ of course it’s all fake, dumbass.  _ People’re so ready to swallow lies if you package them nicely enough. 

Instead, she said: “Call in all the designers Lunafreya has used for the photoshoot, and get them to talk about their creations. They’re workin’ with the future queen of Lucis, so of  _ course _ they’d want to brag about it. Throw in lots of glitz, glamour and sparkly fairy dust and soon enough everyone will forget that I once made a stupid half-drunk remark. Oh, and you might wanna invite CutieLuvr and her posse to the wedding too. Say it’s a gesture of thanks for participating. I dunno...you’re PR people. Think of some beautiful bullshit to tell them. And give them goodie bags just to get them yapping about it on their video channels. Word-of-mouth promotion. Best advertising there is. Boom! Everyone profits. Sounds like a great plan to you? I know it is.”

She sat back and smiled beatifically. 

Ignis finally spoke up. “It’s scary sometimes to see how good you are at playing this.”

“Of  _ course  _ I am. That’s what you’re payin’ me for, isn’t it?”

“Would it be better if Ms. Highwind issued a public apology?” asked one of Iris’s colleagues. 

“No,” said Iris. “If she did, then she’d be acknowledging that the girls were right. No, no apology. We make it so that Aranea had a  _ very _ good reason for saying what she said. We talk about it, and then move on. I think her plan is solid. We gotta really script out her lines, though. Whatever she says at this point is important.” 

“Spoken like a bona fide publicist already,” said Aranea approvingly. “I likes.”

“We’ve also got footages of the concert preparation. We’re interviewing the artistes and posting them as sneak peeks. That one’s already generating a lot of buzz, and as of last night received a traffic boost all thanks to you. I’ve even seen hits that came from Gralea.”

“No, I think it was because of that speech King Noctis did a coupla days ago,” her colleague interjected. “He was high-fiving a bunch of kids, and Lady Lunafreya was with him as well…”

“Kids and speeches. They go  _ really  _ well,” said Aranea. “Didja hold a baby too? ‘Coz ladies go crazy over that sort of thing, especially if it’s hot, single guys.” It had to be beautiful babies though, carefully vetted by the publicist. Ugly ones shouldn’t make it in front of the lens, because the world wasn’t ready for ugliness. She’d once attended a meet-and-greet session of a singer who’d insisted that only pretty girls were allowed to sit up front because he wanted to take wefies with them and post it on his webpage. 

She’d lost a chunk of faith in humanity on that day. 

“You all know what needs to be done,” said Noctis. “So let’s do it.” 

Iris and her team were already gathering their things. Aranea got up to leave when Noctis stopped her. “I’m not done with you yet. Iggy, you’re staying too.” 

Her stomach dropped all the way to the Citadel’s foundations. Whatever sins she was about to be berated for, she had to remember them fast. Was it an embarrassing selfie she didn’t remember taking? Did she break the highway code? Is this over a stack of unpaid parking tickets, hidden out of sight and out of mind in her glove compartment? 

The door closed and it felt like the slamming of hell’s gates. She was doomed. She could  _ feel  _ it. 

Noctis sighed, lacing his fingers together as he stared at the both of them. His office lacked the tick-tock of a precision clock like Ignis’s, but it did hum with the white noise of the central air conditioning. There was a large painting of the late King Regis hanging over the mantelpiece, and Aranea couldn’t help but wonder how Noctis doesn’t buckle beneath the weight of the former monarch’s reign. Regis didn’t exactly leave behind a stable kingdom, and whatever mistakes he’d made during his time was now shouldered by his son. Suddenly everything that Cor had said last night made sense - as brusque and demeaning as it may be. 

“So,” said Noctis. “You two are dating now.” 

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. Whatever response he’s expecting, it has to be within the bounds of the affirmative. Anything beyond that would only make this discussion more difficult.

Aranea fumbled with her words, but Ignis answered for her. “Yes, we are.” 

“Uh-huh. Am I gonna expect more trouble from you?” The last part was directed towards her.

“Um, no. Nossir. I’ll dot my p’s and cross my t’s from here onwards.”

“It’s ‘dot my i’s and cross my t’s’,” said Ignis. 

“Whatever. I’ll be more careful this time.”

Noctis sighed. “Look. Frankly I don’t care if you’re sixty-nine-ing each other. Just make sure that you both get your shit together. And Aranea, I’d very much appreciate it if you don’t steal my advisor for extended periods of time. I’d throw a temper tantrum if you do.” 

Relief flooded her in waves. Noctis wasn’t angry. He was fine with her and Ignis being together. Not that it mattered if he didn’t...but getting the king’s blessing was an entirely different level altogether. She should thank him, for being understanding. Maybe declare some sort of eternal fealty, even. But instead, she found herself saying: “Sixty-nine sucks.”

Noctis stared at her, momentarily confused. “What?” 

“The position. It’s one of the worst sex positions ever invented. It’s like trying to put on makeup while driving a car. I know some people could pull it off, but I know I can’t.”

There was a moment of stunned silence that normally precedes after she made an uncomfortable statement. 

Noctis cleared his throat. “I’ve never done it,” he said, trying to regain some semblance of dignity.

“The sixty-nine?”

“Putting on makeup while driving. Honestly, who the hell does that? They should be arrested! And is that all you took, out of everything else that I said just now?” 

“No! I mean, I hear ya. Okay? It’s just-” she caught Ignis’s warning look, and she subsided. “Thank you for not publicly executing me for leading your Royal Advisor astray.” She paused, then added: “Your Majesty.” 

“Wow. Public executions. I don’t think we’ve done that in...what? 900 years? Give or take?” said Noctis.

“Around that time, yes,” said Ignis.

“Probably the worst we’d ever done was tie someone up in the square and have people throw rotten vegetables at ‘em. No?” 

“King Julius the 43rd, I believe. And it was only an effigy. Apparently one of his ministers beat him in shogi and he was being a sore loser.” 

“Right. So one more snafu from you, I’ll sentence you to impalement by mini cactuars. They won’t kill you, but they’ll give you a butt rash that lasts for weeks.” 

“Duly noted,” said Aranea. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me...I’ve got some important matters to discuss with Iggy.”

Cor was waiting outside when Aranea exited the office. He really had no business standing aloof with his hands in his pockets while giving her the most meaningful glare as she walked past, as if he was a headmaster who’d caught his student doing something illicit. On a whim, she stuck out her tongue at him. She didn’t know why she did that. It was childish and stupid, but that seemed to achieve the desired effect of notching up his distaste towards her further. 

When she was alone, she sought solace against the wall, pressing her forehead against the tiles. Its cool surface provided temporary relief for her headache. The restroom was thankfully empty at the moment, but she frankly couldn’t care less if anyone else walked in. She was already contemplating her route back. There’s no way she’s sticking around until Ludo’s meeting, which was at 2pm. The monorail seemed like a good idea. The morning rush hour should’ve tapered down by now. Barring that, she could also take Uber. She could also walk, take a bike, ride a Zu bird, or take a damned airship, even. She just needed a place to land her head for a good couple of hours or so. 

She heaved out a sigh, wondering how much money she had left in her Pasmo card, and jumped when a voice suddenly spoke near her ear.

“Lady Lunafreya has requested an audience with you.”  

She’d managed to unswallow her tongue at the second try. “God, you! You  _ really _ need to stop doing that, Gentiana!”

The other woman merely smiled that gentle smile of hers. It was unsettling, especially when she was in a place where she had no use for to begin with. 

“What - you mean, now?”

“She has breakfast especially prepared for you.”

“Ah, breakfast,” Aranea repeated weakly. Just the thought of eating scrambled eggs was making her want to throw up. 

“And I believe I can provide relief for your pain.”

“Is it Tylenol? Toss in a coupla that and I’m sold.”

* * *

 

Lunafreya didn’t have an army of girlfriends who’d giggle with her as they talk about her wedding night, nor a mother who’d walk her through the process. Oh, she was well aware of the  _ mechanism,  _ obviously. But given the coronation ceremony and the packed itinerary that she and Noctis had right after the wedding itself, she honestly felt that they’d be so exhausted that they’d end up falling asleep instead of doing it. 

She wanted to talk to Noctis about this, and ask him about his thoughts. He’d been extremely polite and civil throughout their interactions, considerate towards her feelings, and valuing her counsel. Sure, he was fun and cordial whenever they’re alone, holding her hand and putting his arm around her without prompting. But there were times when he’d get into an introspective mood, eyes growing distant, and whenever she’d managed to rouse him from his contemplations, he’d look at her sadly, as if he felt he was imposing a terrible burden on her just by being with her. 

They’d been carefully coached on how they should act in public; their body languages analyzed, dissected and corrected, and then they were made to practice until it became natural to them. Noctis felt they were a pain in the ass. Lunafreya thought they were a necessary evil. But sometimes she couldn’t help but worry when the lines between their public and private faces would someday get blurred. Suddenly it’d seem so easy to pretend, and harder to be real.

In a way she envied Aranea. That woman practically freewheeled her way through life, and whatever trouble that came at her, she’d let it slide off her back like a duck in a tidal wave. She was so wild, so bohemian, tough as nails and yet at the the same time flirts like a wanton nymph without even realizing it. It’s no wonder that men would fall over themselves desiring her - Ignis in particular. Lunafreya knew the man was besotted the moment she saw them together at Galdin Quay.   

She watched as Aranea ran her fingers over the leatherbound notebook, tracing the outline of golden stamped sylleblossoms at the corner. Aranea could sense its sacred value, without even looking at its contents. Even if Lunafreya allowed her to take a peek at what’s inside, she still wouldn’t bring herself to do it. 

“Long distance relationship,” she said, handing the notebook back to Lunafreya. “I suck at it.” 

“This is what kept me going,” said Lunafreya. “Especially through the dark times.” 

Aranea got it. She really did. After the invasion, any form of correspondence would be blocked or censored by the Empire. The notebook was their only means of contact. It was...romantic, in some sense. And tragic and sad all at once. People would lap this kind of story up, but Lunafreya had requested that Aranea kept this bit secret. 

“Nice. Didja ask for dick pics at least?” 

Aranea relished the look of confusion on Lunafreya’s face. “I-I’m sorry…?”

“If I don’t see a guy for years, I would’ve asked for dick pics. Or nudes. I’m not picky, really. That’s the thing that keeps me going.” 

“You’re joking...aren’t you?”

Aranea burst out laughing. “Maybe. Look, I think it’s beautiful, what you guys did. Very...romantic.”

“Really? The cynical Aranea Highwind, developing a palate for romance. I never dreamed the day would ever come.”

Sarcasm. Aranea didn’t think Lunafreya had that in her. She probably had Noctis to blame for that. Or Gladio. 

_ “Touché,”  _ said Aranea, raising her glass in acknowledgement. They were at the Citadel’s rooftop terrace, right back at where Lunafreya saw her three weeks ago. That already felt like ancient history.  

“There’s something I’d like to give you,” said Lunafreya.

“Yeah? What is it?”

Lunafreya nodded towards the attendant standing nearby, who bowed in return and left. 

“A humble gift from my home,” she went on. “It is not much, but I do hope that it symbolizes the beginnings of a friendship between us.” 

The attendant returned, bearing a medium-sized package. Lunafreya took it, and handed it over to Aranea.

“Open it,” she prompted.

Aranea did, and when she lifted the box cover, she was treated to a breathtaking concoction of lace and cotton. It unfolded as she held it up - a white sleeveless summer dress, much like the ones Lunafreya often wore - the material incredibly soft and supple against her skin. 

“Handmade sylleblossom motif lace, its embroidering technique a closely-guarded secret for generations,” said Lunafreya. “I hope it pleases you.” 

“You kiddin’ me? This is the most gorgeous thing ever,” said Aranea, pressing the dress against her, trying to gauge its fit. 

“I look forward to seeing you in it. And I’m guessing that  _ he’d  _ love to see it too.” 

“Who?” 

Lunafreya smiled a Sphinx-like smile.

“Oh, him,” Aranea said flatly. She folded the dress and put it back into the box. “He’s a damned idiot.” 

“An idiot that you love.”

_ Jury’s still out on that one,  _ she thought. She’d learned a new word last week. Sapiosexual. It was those numbers-related articles like ‘10 Reasons Why’, or ‘7 Movies To Watch’ that taught her. This one promised the ‘5 Signs That You’re Sapiosexual’. She’d thought it had something to do with soaps. She never imagined that she’d be attracted to intelligence. In the past she’d been with men who had far less cranial matter than a mollusc. But maybe that’s what growing up was all about. Her preferences change. Now she couldn’t get enough of Ignis’s intense face whenever he’s thinking. Even during that time at the host club she’d picked the nerdy guy. And Ardyn was shrewd in his manipulative, asshole-y way. “So...what’s your bachelorette party gonna be like? Anyone gotten around to organizing that yet?”

“Nobody’s got time for that. But I’ve thought of something even better. How about a dinner party together? Just us and our close friends. Goodness knows we might never get the chance to have this kind of gathering after this. And I was wondering if you could hold a special preview screening of the final video. It is almost done, isn’t it?” 

“Heh. It ain’t fun if you’ve already got spoilers,” said Aranea with a wry half-grin. Editing. Editing was easy. All she needed was a narrative, and in this case, it starts with ‘Once upon a time’ and ends with ‘They lived happily ever after’. “I’m just putting in some final touches and it’s ready.”

“Excellent! So it is all set, then.”

“Aren’t you forgetting that I don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to pre-wedding parties?”

Lunafreya cocked her head sideways, curious as a bird. “You are referring to...that video?”

“Yes, that video. I’m really sorry,” Aranea said wretchedly. “Seems to me I’ve been making more apologies today compared to any other day.”

“You made a mistake, did you not? Everyone does that. That hasn’t stopped you from moving forward before.”   

“Yeah, but-”

“As your client, I’m not requesting you. I’m  _ insisting  _ that you join us.”

“Well-”

“Oh, come now, Aranea. It will be fun, I promise!”

Aranea sighed. “Y’know, everytime somebody says that,  _ everyone _ will end up getting arrested.”

* * *

 

“Chancellor Izunia has agreed to the new settlement terms.” Ludo held up a finger to stem any incoming display of jubilation. “All but one. To clarify, he has given consent to take over all incurred debts from your joint business venture; and you shall be granted alimony, the sum of which will be determined by the judge at a later date. There are also two properties - one in Altissia and another in Lestallum - which you will have full ownership over once the paperwork comes through.”

Aranea grunted. Lestallum had been their home, the place where Julian grew up. No doubt she’d want to let it go the first chance she got. Too many memories. She was already calculating its current market value to see if she could afford to spring for her own place.

“He also made a very specific request, and that is to pass you this.” He produced a slim, rectangular box from his briefcase and slid it across the conference table towards her. Its rich velvet casing was already a clear indication on what’s inside. “He says he’s very sorry, and this will more than make up for all the tears you’ve shed for him.”

Aranea let out an incredulous snort. Trust Ardyn to dramatize everything. If he wasn’t the Emperor’s right-hand man, he’d make a good career in theatre.

Hesitantly her fingers crept towards the box. 

“I hope you don’t mind, but I still have to observe strict Citadel security protocols and temporarily surrender it for screening. Especially considering...where it came from.”

Her gaze slid towards Ignis, who was seated next to her, content on being a mere silent observer. Beneath the table, however, he wasn’t as aloof. He’d placed his leg close enough to hers, so much so that they were exchanging body heat. He didn’t touch her - but he’d made it clear that he was there for support if she needed him. 

With a nod from him, she reached out and opened the box. Whatever’s inside caught the light suddenly and  _ glinted. _

He’d known its content, obviously...having been consulted to when the guard presented it to him. He was already familiar with its name, seen it whispered - not shouted - from glossy magazines. Because something as luxurious as this doesn’t need crude advertising to get its point across. It’s the kind of thing where if you have to ask for its price tag, then you most certainly can’t afford it.  

He knew, because it was the exact thing Noctis had secretly requested him to acquire as a wedding gift for Lady Lunafreya.

They called it Shiva’s Tears - 38 carat blue diamonds dripping from filigreed gold, frosted over with white diamonds. A homage to the gentle Glacian herself. This breathtaking limited edition masterpiece retail at a cool 12.5 million gil. 

And Ardyn had given it to Aranea in a desperate bid to win her favour.

She stared at it, face devoid of emotion. One would think she was presented with coal instead of an offering fit for a queen. Or a goddess, for that matter.

The box snapped shut, and skidded on the glass surface as she flicked it away with her fingers. 

“I don’t want it,” she said flatly. “Send it back to him.” 

“Well, hurm,” Ludo harrumphed, sounding a tad uncertain. “He’s very insistent that you accept this. There was no-”

“I don’t care.  _ You _ take it then. Should be enough to cover your fee, right?” 

“But-”

There was a thunderous crash. Aranea had gotten to her feet so suddenly that her chair rolled backwards and slammed against the glass wall behind. With an audible growl, she snatched the offending box, marched over to the window, undid its latch, pushed it open-

\- and threw the box out.  

Despite himself, Ignis found his mouth falling open as he and Ludo exchanged perplexed glances.  _ She just tossed a bloody priceless bracelet off the 15th floor window! She’s gone completely mad! _

“I will  _ NOT _ be bought!” she declared. There was vehemence in her voice and steel in her eyes. She shut the window, latched it up again, and went back to her seat. She didn’t bother to retrieve her chair, though...choosing instead to remain standing. There was a hardened set to her mouth which Ignis found unsettling. 

“That all?” she bit out. 

Ludo scrambled over his notes. “The matter of custody over Julian. That, I’m afraid, is still a grey area.”

She closed her eyes. And there it is. The crappy news.

“The judge is in favour of you. However, the Chancellor has pushed for joint custody, stating that he has played his part in caring for the boy.” 

Caught between huffing and speaking, Aranea ended up saying, “Hwhat?”

“Financial-wise, that is.”

It’s true that Ardyn hasn’t been stingy with money - a steady stream of monthly bank statements could prove that. But he’d skimped on pretty much everything else, and that worried her. There are no paper trails for emotional investments, so it’s a very much he says she says kind of situation.  

“We could have Julian weigh in on the decision. Call him up to the stands, get an official statement from him on how he’s being treated when he’s with you-”

“No.”

Ludo blinked. “Pardon me?”

“I won’t get him involved in any court hearing. It’s already bad enough he has to deal with this separation. Leave him out of it.”

“He could very well be key in winning this case…”

“He’s not some chess piece we could trot out at our convenience. Find another way! There’s gotta be one. It’s stressful enough for adults to do it. Imagine what it’d do to a kid!”

“I understand. Would you feel more comfortable if it is pre-recorded? I will be present, along with someone from social services. In fact, I know a lady who is extremely good with children. Her role would be to ensure that Julian isn’t under duress when he makes his statement.”

“And me? Would I be there too?” 

“I’m afraid not. Otherwise the judge would rule it out on account of you attempting to sway Julian’s statement to your favour. Which brings me to my next point, actually. He is allowed to see you, albeit temporarily-”

The world suddenly stopped for Aranea.

“What did you say?” she asked. Slowly, quietly...as if afraid she might break something. 

“Julian is allowed to see you, but only for five days until he goes off to Altissia, where he will stay until the custody ruling is finalized.”

“Altissia? On his own? That’s ridiculous! The hell is he supposed to do there?”

“His nanny - Edna, I believe is her name - will accompany him at all times. And because Mr. Scientia thinks it is important, he will have tutors to resume his lessons. These are uncertain times, Ms. Highwind. If Julian stays any longer in Gralea, he will violate his visa and we’d have to tussle with the immigration department. Which I wish to avoid at all costs. Accordo’s the only place he could stay indefinitely. I still think that, given the circumstances, his statement would definitely help expedite matters. He won’t even have to see the insides of a courtroom, if that is your wish.” 

“So how’s this work? Him seeing me. Do I go there...does he come here…”

“He will come to Insomnia. In fact, I’ve already made travel arrangements for him and Edna.” Ludo allowed himself a small smile, upon seeing the dawn of realization on Aranea’s face. “That’s right, Ms. Highwind. You will be reunited with your son again. This coming Saturday, he will arrive at the train station. I suggest you make all the necessary preparations.”  

Without a word, Aranea placed both palms over the edge of the conference table, leaning heavily over it as she bowed her head. Her bangs covered her face, so it was impossible to read her expression. When she finally looked up again, her voice was choked with emotion. “Thanks. That’s...that’s probably the best thing I’ve heard in weeks.” 

With that she pushed herself off and walked out of the room. 

Ignis made to go after her, but Ludo stopped him. 

“A moment, Mr. Scientia. I’ve looked into that matter you asked. You should do a paternity test before filing a petition declaring that Julian is your son. It is a requirement, and usually having that would help fast track the process. And I would suggest that he retains a dual Accordo-Lucis passport for future purposes. He could be a diplomatic envoy someday, for example, and that would work to his advantage.” 

“Diplomatic envoy?” Ignis echoed. “That’d be the day. You do realize who his mother is, don’t you?”   

“Ah, yes. She’d much rather smash doors than build bridges,” said Ludo with an exaggerated sigh. “Well, Mr. Scientia. Sometimes in relations all you really need is a good hammer. But, for the sake of national security, perhaps it’s prudent to exclude her from any Lucis-Niflheim peace talks.”

* * *

 

**Next episode: Reunited? At last?**


	16. It’s Nice to Finally Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verstael reflects on the sins of fathers. Ignis tries to woo Aranea with ancient poetry while they’re lining up at the checkout counter. And Julian...well, he finally meets his real father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A tanka is a form of Japanese poetry, predating the haiku. Its challenge is to convey emotions and mood within a fixed number of syllables, so word economy is necessary. Kinda like Twitter, in a way. Normally used as a gesture to express gratitude and love, it’s also a medium for lovers to express their passion for each other. A skillful tanka writer can write porn within a few words. I really wish I could do that. For now, I’d just have to steal tankas from Mr. Google.

The older Verstael got, the more he began to think about his sins.

He stood at the observation deck, high above the hangar. He was staring, yet unseeing, fingers curled upon the platform railing. A cough rumbled out of him, and his hands fumbled into his pockets, searching for a handkerchief.

He’d received yet another report from the doctor. His prognosis was getting worse. Sometimes he wondered if he should stop seeing doctors altogether, just to stem the bad news.

Life was cruel indeed. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d cursed his own mortality.

He heaved another difficult cough, feeling the phlegm rattle around his chest cavity like dices in a box. He was in the throes of death for sure, the Grim Reaper stalking him in the halls, haunting whatever sparse sleep he could manage, robbing him of his appetite. _No!_ he would shout to himself. He needed more time. There’s still so many things he wanted to do. He’d yet to produce his magnum opus! He’d worked all his life, carving a name out for himself. He will not be stopped by something as insignificant and troublesome as death!

When he’d finally managed to hack and gag into his handkerchief, his spittle came out tinged with blood.

Perhaps this was karma. Perhaps the Six had finally revealed that they’d always have the upper hand, no matter what. How unfair, flaunting their immortality to the faces of man like that. What’s the point of fighting, then, if not to change the status quo? That had always been his core value. He’d refused to accept the world as it was, so he sought to paint it the way he saw fit. Perhaps that was why the Emperor was so fond of him, just as he was fond of the pets he’d produced in the name of the Empire.

General Caligo had come over for a progress report. Verstael went through the usual numbers, having more or less summarized them from the data supplied by his underlings. Is he able to meet the deadline? Why, yes. Yes, of course. Will they work as well as he’d promised? Is that doubt I hear, General? Are you planning to raze yet another town to the ground?  

That’s classified, muttered the General.

There was a lull in the conversation, then. They were both feeling their age, he knew it. When it was late at night and the hallways were empty save for patrolling soldiers; when they were all alone; when all that accompanied them was the hum of machines and the distant scream of daemons, that one introspective thought will push, unbidden, deep inside their minds.

They were both expiring. Verstael even more so. But Caligo was sick inside too. He possessed a twisted malevolence of hubris, greed and vitriol, all carefully cultivated and nurtured throughout the years. There really was no room left in his life for anything - or anyone - else.   

No joy could be found in their respective jobs. Verstael had belatedly realized that now. Magnum opus? Hah. He had to be fooling himself. He’d already created his magnum opus a long time ago, and its name was Prompto Argentum.

He’d sampled the foreign words to himself sometimes: _my son._ He turned the strange syllables over in his tongue, trying to feel its taste. It tasted of loneliness. And regret.

Ah, was he really so far gone? He’s the Empire’s Head of Research! He ought to be mechanical, just like his creations. He didn’t have just one child. He had thousands. Hundreds of thousands. He was far better than Bahamut, far better than that bitch Shiva. Far better than the Six combined. Damn them all.

“Caligo,” he said, slipping into familiar terms whenever they weren’t discussing about work. “Have you...spoken to your daughter?”

The General frowned, momentarily taken aback. Why this, all of a sudden?

“It’s just that, of late I found myself thinking about my son.”

“What, for an experiment?”

Verstael shot him a pained look. “No. I wish...I only wish to see him. To talk to him. I wonder sometimes, you know. Of how he was doing. Don’t you feel the same about her?”

Caligo weighed on his next words, and when he finally spoke, he said: “Has the medication enfeebled your mind, Verstael?”

Verstael hadn’t the energy to argue. “Perhaps. Perhaps it has. But once you are branded with an expiry date, you tend to see things with more...perspective.”

Caligo’s response was deliberately unkind. “For you, perhaps. But not for me.”

“Yes, you are right. Still, don’t you think that it’s better to make amends? While we still can? I hear tell of your grandson leaving the capital soon. Isn’t there any message that you wish to convey to her through him?” Verstael smiled, despite himself. “Such a sweet boy. How come you never introduced us?”  

“There is no introduction necessary.”   

Verstael smiled again. It’s disturbing to see how the man was now so fixated on the past. On a past that he never had. Caligo was starting to wonder if he should have a quiet word with the Emperor about this.  

“Come now...surely you haven’t converted yourself to the fallacious belief that family is everything? You are a hypocrite, Verstael.”

“In the end, we are _all_ hypocrites, Caligo.” Verstael was suddenly racked by envy. Caligo had something he could never have. A direct link to his living progeny. And he’d tossed it aside, scraped it away as if it was no more worthless than the scum on his boots.

The General had no retort to that. He cast his gaze elsewhere, disgusted at Verstael, at his softness, at his sentimentality. This wasn’t like him at all. These past few months had changed him.   

Verstael tried once more. “I seem to recall Arane-”

“Speak not of her name!”

Their gazes clashed. Caligo wasn’t the first to look away.

“I have no daughter. She is dead,” he said, voice sounding bitter and hollow. He’d uttered it with such conviction, as if he was attempting to rewrite reality with mere words. He was stone-cold inside, just as stone-cold as his eyes. “That woman is nothing more than an Imperial whore who’d birthed Lucian bastards.”

* * *

 “Know what you should do when you die?”

“What?”

“You should donate your brain to science. Let doctors poke around and see what makes it so awesome.”

Ignis took a moment to pause his perusing of the shopping list and shot Aranea a quick glance. “Thank you. But I’d rather be buried with all my bits intact, if that's alright with you.”

“Why? Think of all the contributions to science you could do. They could preserve your genes and make clones outta you. They’d probably even create a grant in your name...The Scientia Foundation, or something like that. Every year the kids who get it would go onstage and thank the guy they don’t even know or care.”

“All the more reason for me to let someone else take up that honour. It doesn’t matter to me if no one knows who I am. What matters is that you do. And besides, I’d very much prefer to pass down my genes the _traditional_ way. Do you think we’ve gotten enough milk? Should we get the orange preserves as well?”

“And do what? Make pie? We’re talking about stuff a _kid_ might like. Ugh, you’re _such_ a mom.” Their shopping cart were already laden with things she wasn’t even sure they’d need. She’d found out that Ignis shopped like a housewife - with an eagle-eyed affinity towards discounts, and compulsively bulk stocking up on things simply because ‘they never know when they’d need it’. Ever since it was confirmed that Julian was finally coming to Insomnia, Ignis had been on preparation overdrive - puttering about the apartment as he made a list of things that’s required to accommodate the boy. “I think we’re good for now,” she said. “We’ve even got that gut-lacerating cardboard shit you call ‘oatmeal’.”

“Well, excuse me for being enthusiastic,” he said tartly. “It’s been a while since I’ve to think of a child’s needs.”

“You ever thought about _my_ needs?” She had a saucy arch to her brow when she said that, a humorous twist on her lips which he found increasingly endearing. Of course he’d thought of her needs. In more ways than one. Sometimes strong and unadulterated visions of them naked and writhing against each other would invade his imagination, forcing him to stop whatever he was doing.

“Far too often than it is necessary.”

“Preparation-wise, you’re doing fiiiine,” she said in soothing tones. “Just think a shitload of sugar, sodium, artificial colouring and preservatives, and you’ll get a very well-balanced diet.” When he shot her a mock glare, she added: “Okay, throw in some fruits and vegetables and we’ll see what happens.”

They passed by a promoter holding up a tray of cheese samples. Aranea took three.

“I’ve just realized that we’re doing a very couple thing today,” he said.

“Oh, yeah?” she said distractedly. She spotted a pack of crackers and tossed one into the cart. “What’s that?”

“Grocery shopping together.” He sounded so proud when he said that. She almost felt sorry for him.

“Ooh, that’s practically third base,” she drawled in dry tones. “Next thing you know, we’d be playing house and going on vacations together.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice? Having that in the cards?”

She’d stopped so suddenly that the cart bounced against her butt. “Whoah, hey. Whatever happened to Mr. I-wanna-take-it-slow? You’re already considering _that?”_

“Well, it isn’t an improbable possibility. To me, at least. I realize I may seem...overzealous, but I daresay we’re already off to a good start, don’t you think?”

Aranea sighed. She’d yet to tell him that she was already making her own arrangements, and to see him looking at her like that - hopeful as a daisy - only made things difficult.

“Listen: I’m still sorting myself out...okay?” she said. “You were right. I’m...unsettled. Maybe if we’re gonna do this together...if we’re gonna do it _right,_ I might need to be on my own for a bit. My job with you is almost done. I need to start looking elsewhere to sustain my income. I’m thinking of starting another company. I can’t be worryin’ about us if I’m still worryin’ about my next paycheque.”

“Ah,” he said, slightly crestfallen. “You have a valid point there. I do apologize if I was out of line.”    

“No, you weren’t. You were just being excessively…” she scrunched her face into a grimace, as if saying the next word was embarrassing to her: “Sweet. If it weren’t for all these people, I’d be bangin’ you already.”

“Well, that’s promising.”

“Hey, you’re the one who initiated the chastity belt policy. I’m just playing by your rules.”

“I thought you break rules.”

“I normally do. But I’m sticking to this one just to mess with you.”

Elbows leaning on the handle of the shopping cart, Ignis slowed down a notch, letting her walk ahead. He watched as she curiously inspected a packet of tea. He’d grown to memorize the palettes of expression on her face - whether she’s angry, playful, happy, sad, or extremely turned on. They’re all his favourites. There was also that curious expression she makes whenever she’s hiding something and didn’t want him to find out - which she does a lot lately. She keeps a trove of secrets deep within her heart, and he wanted to learn all of it. Because it wasn’t in his nature to not know things. He wanted to pick her mind apart, much like an anthropologist observing a rare and interesting specimen, just to find out what makes her tick. But Prompto had warned him against that. Sometimes things’re better left unknown, he’d said. If she kept things from him, it’d never be out of spite or to hurt him, he’d added.  

He’d come over to Ignis’s place last night to get him up to speed with King’s Knight. Ignis’s suspicions were correct - ever since the developers switched OS versions, they’d overhauled the entire gaming system. Everything that’s familiar was no longer there. Even the turn-based battles were harder due to the fact that a more strategic approach was required (which wasn’t a terrible handicap for Ignis).

After running through the rudimentary functions, they’d focused on a few rounds of character levelling up. Ignis was pleased to find out that the wizard class had been significantly upgraded. No longer were they the weakest member of the party - well, they still are. They still can’t wear heavy armour - but they had more buff up spells at their disposal, and they can dual-wield swords and spears to better defend themselves. It was still a tried-and-tested trick of positioning himself away from the fray and sniping enemies from afar. Occasionally he had to jump in to help Prompto’s character, but usually after spamming his area of effect spells, everybody would be six feet under by then.

“You’re gettin’ the hang of it already,” Prompto said encouragingly. “I can help level up your character some so that by the time Julian comes you guys can play together. Just gimme your login details and I’ll play it on my phone. I’ll even help pick the most kickass spells for ya.”

“Thank you. That’s very generous of you.”

“Aw, it’s nothin’.” Prompto’s eyes flickered up towards Ignis, before dropping back down to his phone. They’d both had stopped playing, and Ignis was tapping away on his screen, messaging goodness knows who. Probably Aranea. Prompto’s mouth twitched, as if he was on the verge of saying something.   

“Ask.” Ignis rumbled out. He was looking at Prompto, a sharp glint in his eyes. His thumbs were paused in mid-act. “I can practically _hear_ you think.”

“Soooo,” said Prompto, drawing the vowels out. His overly nonchalant tone gave Ignis more reason to remain suspicious. “How’s - ah...how’s things with Aranea?”

“Aranea?”

“Yeah, Aranea. Y’know...the light of your life. The fire of your loins. Your heart and soul. _That_ Aranea.”

Ignis seemed momentarily nonplussed. “As fine as things could be. Why do you ask?”

“Nothing. Just wondering if you realize what you’re really getting yourself into.”

“I am in the process of developing relations with her, not go on an expedition to map out the Steyliff Grove swamps,” he said, slight irritation colouring his tone.

“Hmph. I daresay they’re both one and the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re dealing with a woman who’d already gone mano-a-mano with marriage. Every bullshit trick a man could possibly pull on her, she knows. She’s already seen what’s beyond the smoke and mirrors, so whatever romance tactics you’ve got in your playbook, it ain’t gonna work on her. If anything else, you gotta buck up your game if you really wanna impress her.”

Ignis stared at him, incredulous. “This isn't bloody King’s Knight, Prompto! She isn’t some ultimate boss I have to fight.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” Prompto countered calmly. “She's like, the Demigod Gorgon Queen...y’know the one who deals 9,999 damage in one shot, while all you have is a toothpick sword that does fuck all. You’re gonna need better gear.”

“Like the Sword of Immortals, you mean,” Ignis said in dry tones. “Shall I start farming for ingredients?”

“Somethin’ like that. Thing is, you’ve already got it, and his name is Julian. You become besties with your kid, and you’ll have a surefire way to win Aranea. _But,_ these things take time, and you’ve only got five days. So you gotta get creative. Think you can handle that, Mister Royal Advisor? And don’t say ‘How hard can it be?’. Only dead idiots do that. Look, just be honest with me. Are you ready to become a dad?”

“I’m terrified.”

Prompto nodded, apparently satisfied. “Good answer. Being scared is good, ‘coz then you’ll try your best to not screw things up.”

“That’s what I’ve been doing my entire life - mastering the art of not screwing up. Remember our road trip? If it weren’t for me, you pinheads would’ve driven yourselves off a damned cliff by now.”

“Oh, heheh. Yeah, you got me there.”

Ignis resumed his texting, although his pace quickly faltered until it stuttered to a stop. Then, with the increasing dread of someone asking a question he knew he wouldn’t like the answer to, he said: “What do you think I should do?”

Prompto leaned back, placing his right ankle over his left knee. The knee started jiggling. This was pretty much the de facto stance he’d take whenever he’s relaxed.

“Don’t be an asshole?” he suggested.

“Fan _tas_ tic,” Ignis drawled out sarcastically. “What a stupendous insight you have given me. Why, without you, I couldn’t _possibly_ have thought that out myself.”

“No, I mean...well frankly, I wouldn’t worry so much. I think Ardyn’s set a pretty low bar in the parenthood department, so I reckon you’ve got a good shot at raising it. The key trick here is to not treat Julian like an idiot. You’d be surprised at what kids can find out when you don’t think they’re watching.”

“You have a very good point there.”

“Anyways, you can teach him _heaps_ of stuff once he’s big enough. Like...like shaving, and how to pickup girls. Oh, no - on second thought, maybe Gladio should do that.”

“Why? You find issue with my skill?” said Ignis, rather testily.

“Dude...have you _actually_ picked a girl up before?”

Silence.

 _“Exactly,”_ said Prompto. “I mean, when you and Aranea first met, she’s the one who spoke to you first, right? Right. Face it: ya ain’t got game, son.”

Someone was snapping their fingers in front of his face. It was Aranea, dragging him back to the present.

“Zone out much?” she said.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said. “Were you saying something?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

While waiting for their turn at the checkout counter, her phone buzzed. It was a message from Ignis:

 

_All day,_

_Rain has come down,_

_Drop by drop,_

_The pain of your absence,_

_Has penetrated me._

 

Turning around to face him, she showed her phone screen. “The heck is this about?”

“It’s a tanka,” he said matter-of-factly, as if that alone was a good enough explanation.

“And you have the need to text that, even when you’re only a few feet away. What’s dangga, anyway?”

“Tanka,” he repeated, like a teacher explaining a new concept to his students. “It’s poetry.”

“Poetry,” she echoed. “Oh. My. God. Never pegged you as the poetic type. You Googled this out, didn’t ya?”

“No. I wrote it myself. With great difficulty, I’d like to add. I’ve never done it before, and tankas are a notoriously difficult form of poetry.”

“Yeah...but why this?”

Ignis pushed up his glasses with the tip of his middle finger - a clear indication that he was going to launch into an intellectual discourse. “There was a time where members of the royal court were judged not only by their political prowess and business acumen, but also poetry-writing skills. It indicates their refined level of education. We are, after all, expected to be all-rounders. It is a fine…” He narrowed his eyes, casting around for a correct word to use, “...dance to navigate the tricky minefields of politics. Sometimes a subtle word - or a well-placed one - could help tip the scales.”

“Huh, this doesn’t seem like a good one. It doesn’t even rhyme.”

“It doesn’t need to rhyme. What matters is the meaning.’’

Once again she found herself having to reverse gears everytime she thought about him. The man doesn’t operate like a typical commoner. He doesn’t throw away words carelessly, nor his actions were without purpose. Maybe this was his way of declaring his love for her, because merely saying it to the face was so _passé._ Anyone can say it and not mean it. He wanted to make sure that he does everytime he says it.

Because he wouldn’t be Ignis otherwise.

“Thanks, that’s very...nice,” she managed. “I’ll screencap it and keep it forever.”

And then it was their turn to pay, and no more was said about it.

* * *

“Tell me more about Julian.”

They’d just finished their dinner, and neither one of them could bring themselves to clear the table just yet. Ignis had cooked for her...finally. It came without fanfare - they’d brought in the grocery bags and he’d suddenly announced that he’s making dinner. That surprised her, for she was already contemplating a healthy and well-balanced meal of chips and salsa dips, washed down with Pocari Sweat. She was planning on watching old movie reruns as an after dinner entertainment, but now that Ignis had invited himself as a house guest, her date with the remote control had to be postponed.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Anything. Strange, funny, boring...anything at all about him.”

And so she told him. About how Julian was right-handed and once upon a time he was so terrified of his own shadow. About how he heard thunderstorms and thought that the sky was falling. She told him about the time they’d went to a funfair (sans Ardyn) and when he got back he threw up because he had too much candyfloss. She talked about the darker times when he got so sick that she honestly thought he was going to die, and she’d wanted to give up...but in the end she didn’t. Aranea was steel and diamonds. She would never give up.

Still he asked for more, and he listened as she talked. She talked about how Julian’s got a dimple on his right cheek and a scar on his left. A cat had scratched him when he was three, and now he had three white lines below his eye which only shows up whenever he’s angry. At first he was embarrassed by it, but then she told him he looked like a badass pirate, and now he wanted to be a pirate when he grows up.

“You should tell him about Gladio’s scars,” he murmurs, fingers absently tracing the back of her hand. He’d reached over to touch her during her soliloquy, and she seemed to enjoy it, extending out her arm so that he had better access to her. “Was the morning sickness terrible?”

“I didn’t throw up, if that’s what you mean. What - you think we all run to the toilet everytime we’re pregnant? Hell, no! I was really tired, though. Getting out of bed took a _lot_ of effort. Luckily Biggs and Wedge took up all the slack. I went out for shoots only if it’s necessary. Most of the time I stayed in the studio and did editing.”

“What else?”

“What else?” she echoed, feeling at a loss. He can’t possibly want to hear about her constipation and weird cravings, can he? Or how she’d snuck in the odd candy bar or two even when the doctor told her to control her sugar intake? But looking at his face now, at how hungrily he lapped up every bit of information about herself and Julian, she realized that he wanted to live through her stories. He wanted to insert himself into every single family portrait, every family videos that didn’t have him in it.

“The doctor had to cut Julian out of me because the labour was too long and I was already exhausted. I kept telling myself I wasn’t ready. I wanted Ardyn to come. I wanted him to see this. But he never did. When Julian opened his eyes for the first time, all I could see was green. The most brilliant shade of green you could imagine. That’s when I know that something’s not right. I breastfed him until he was two. Funny how Ardyn got jealous. Like my boobs are exclusively his and his alone. Pfft. I just told him to grow up and deal with it.”

“Funny indeed,” said Ignis. He wasn’t laughing.

“You’re lucky you missed potty training. Ugh. There was this dumbass dance Julian would make me do everytime he did the number two. And I _had_ to do it. Otherwise he’d refuse to use the toilet the next time. I’m tellin’ ya. It’s like blackmail at its finest. Your son’s evil.”

“I would love to see that.”

“Ha! No.”

He suddenly enclosed her hand with his, eyes burning with unrestrained passion. It was almost as if he was regretting his absence in her life, and he was determined to make up for it. “I wouldn’t miss it, Aranea. Every single moment. I would remember each one of them.”  

She smiled, a tad wistfully. “Hell, yeah. I know you would. You’d probably have a huge chunk of memory space in your laptop, full of baby vids. And during office parties you’d bore people to tears because you just wouldn’t shut up about your kid. You’re _that_ kind of parent.”

“I’d _never_ talk about family during office functions!” he said, affronted. “Well, maybe not excessively. And only to people I’m close with.”

“Hey, you wanna check out something _really_ cool?”  

“What is it?”

Aranea took her phone, scrolled through the image thumbnails, and then held the speaker close to his ear. “What do you hear?”

He listened. There was a deep pulsing sound, almost echoey and muffled at the same time. It had a steady rhythm, strong and yet...fragile at the same time.

“Something...a...heartbeat,” he said, then frowned. “It’s...underwater? Are you playing me a recording of a whale?”

Wordlessly, she turned the screen to face him.

His heart dropped. He didn’t recall taking the phone from her, nor listening to her voice because suddenly, she’d sounded so so far away. His vision had tunnelled, and his entire world was solely focused on what he was seeing.

The image was grey and slightly grainy - highly unimpressive compared to the HD and 4k standards they have today. But this. This had to be one of the most incredible things he’d ever seen and heard his entire life.  

An ultrasound of Julian.

Aranea’s voice swam back up to his consciousness. “You can already see he’s got your nose. And look! He wiggling his little fingers. The doctor’s cool enough to send me this clip. Gets me everytime I see it. I look at him, so big now, and wonder: did that thing just come out of me?”

“This is... _amazing,”_ he breathed. “If only...if only I was there.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve also a folder full of ultrasound printouts. You can go through ‘em as often as you like.”

“It’s not the same, Aranea.”

“You’re right. It’s not.” She looked at him, then. _Really_ looked at him. She caught that dreamy wistfulness in his eyes, that droop at the corners of his mouth and the lines of his shoulders painting an image of a man living in a past that wasn’t entirely his. He was outside looking in, seeing but never touching. He’d compensated that by touching her now, drawing her close into a kiss as he said his goodnight at the front door.

“I will be seeing you again tomorrow,” he said, running his thumb over her lower lip, now slick and swollen from his attentions. “We’ll go to the train station together.”

“Okay,” she sighed. It was all she could think of saying at that moment.

Just when she was getting ready for bed, her phone buzzed yet again.

 

_No way to see her_

_On this moonless night—_

_I lie awake longing, burning,_

_Chest racing fire,_

_Heart in flames._

 

Well, well. Things were increasingly getting risque on his end indeed.

* * *

The crowd flowed around Aranea like minnows in a stream. The lit up LED board displayed all of the train’s schedules, along with a constantly flickering information saying whether it was boarding, delayed, cancelled or arriving. The green confirmation on Julian’s train made her smile.

He’d woken her up at six a.m. with a video call, claiming that he could see Insomnia from the window and it was gorgeous.

_“I slept the moment I got on the train, but then I got so excited that I woke up early! Well, I needed to use the bathroom, so…”_

“Um-hmm, that’s good. Try not to talk so loud. Edna’s sleeping.”

Julian panned his camera down, revealing the nanny snoring in her bunker. _“She still out cold,”_ he said with a laugh.

“That’s ‘coz she’s real tired after taking care you! Now, shh! Use your inside voice, please.”

_“Okay, mom.”_

He’d attempted to show her the scenery passing outside, then told her what he had for dinner. She listened to his excited chatter before telling him she needed to get a bit more rest too. They’d exchanged ‘Love you’s and ‘See you later’s before hanging up.

A hand enclosed hers. Ignis was staring at the board too. “Everything on schedule?”

“They’ll be here any minute now.”

He watched as she stood by the arrival gate, scanning each and every face that came through. Bit by bit the crowd broke into groups as they were whisked away by family members and acquaintances. There were some who, without a welcoming party, went straight for the taxi stand or the car rental booth. For those with an economical budget, they’d take the free shuttle bus service headed for the city.  

Ignis knew all this because he took the time studying all the available modes of transport, just in case someone needed that information. If someone were to ask how to get to Section 16 from here, for example, he could confidently tell them to take the monorail and go down at the eighth stop. But no one would care to ask him these things, because even if they did want to know, they would’ve asked the station master or any of the the other helpful staff, since it was _their_ job to know these things.

Ignis also knew that he was rambling in his mind. It only showed how nervous he was. He’d kept tugging at the edges of his jacket sleeve, wondering if he was overdressed for the occasion. Does the suit make him look intimidating? Should he have worn his t-shirt instead? What’s the first thing he ought to say? Will Julian take one look at him and jump back into the train, crying?

“Mom!”

He spotted a boy running towards Aranea, ash blond hair streaming in the wind. He had on a green jacket and a red backpack. Suddenly, within that split second of a moment, everything around Ignis seemed a little bit brighter, and a little bit slower.

Aranea had her arms outstretched. The boy barrelled into her, almost knocking her back, and they hugged. She squatted down, grasping his face with both hands, saying something to him. He nodded, smiled, and pointed at his teeth. There was a small gap at the bottom. She kissed his cheeks and hugged him again.

An elderly lady eventually joined them. It must be Edna, the nanny. Aranea stood up, they spoke, and she shook the woman’s hand. She pointed at Ignis, said something about him. Ignis found himself subjected to a rather curious and wide-eyed stare. Julian’s fingers curled around his mother’s, as if asking for a cue on what to do next. His hair was a tangled mop of cowlicks, and his cheeks were still plumped with residual baby fat. But he was a Scientia through and through - Ignis could tell, from studying old photographs and listening to stories of him. His long illness meant that his body was smaller than average, but the natural onset of puberty will surely correct that someday.

This was the blood of his blood, finally made flesh. The more Ignis looked at him, the more it felt as if he was staring into the mirror.    

Julian blinked once more, turning uncertainly at his mother. Aranea nodded, murmured something, and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He took several hesitant steps forward, then held up a hand. “Hullo. I’m Julian. How d’you do?”

Ignis hunkered down and shook the boy’s proffered hand. It was oh so small, and slightly cold from the train. When they touched, it felt as if a bolt was shot right through Ignis’s chest, impaling him into Julian’s clear green eyes. Those eyes, which were so much - no, too much like his, already swimming with sadness and wisdom far beyond his years. He’d clearly done a lot of growing up since his forced separation from his mother, and unfortunately it’d take a bit of time for the rest of his body to catch up. There were many things...so many things that Ignis wanted to talk to him about. So many questions that he wanted Julian to ask him.

But for now, he was content with merely saying: “Hello, Julian. I’m Ignis. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

* * *

**Question: What father-son bonding activity should Ignis do with Julian?**

**\--o--**

**Next episode: A very Kupo’s Happy Family breakfast. There’ll be fluff, fluff, fluff and fluff. Abandon hope all ye who enter here.**


	17. Kupo’s Happy Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scientia boys cook breakfast for Aranea. Bonding and feels happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shogi is Japanese chess. I pick shogi because I headcanon Iggy being very good at it. Well, I think he slays all the tactical games, including battleship and freaking tic-tac-toe. 
> 
> Idea credits to LunarMagnolia and Tabitha Potter for the cooking thing. I see a few suggestions on bedtime stories, and touring the town, doing something educational...will definitely credit the respective peoples on that too.

Ignis heard a resounding crash the moment he entered the apartment. Julian was at the kitchen, standing in the middle of a crime scene of shattered glass mixing bowl and runny egg yolk staining the kitchen floor. There was an expression of abject horror and shock etched on his face. He looked even more terrified when he spotted Ignis peering around the corner.

“Oh, dear,” said Ignis, gingerly stepping in, mindful of how slippery the tiles were. Shards of glass crunched beneath his shoes. “Do not move.”

“I-I j-just wanted to make breakfast for mom,” Julian quailed tremulously. He was so close to tears. “T-the bowl was heavy, and it slipped…”

“This is why we need to learn the importance of safety before everything else. Come now, let’s get you out of there.”

Ignis lifted him up. Julian automatically wrapped his arms around Ignis's neck. Depositing the boy onto the island countertop, he grunted. “You’re heavier than you look!” 

“That’s a good thing, right?”

“It’s  _ very  _ good. Now - are you hurt? Did the glass get you?” 

“No,” said Julian, shaking his head. Then, a look of guilt marred his features once more, and he broke eye contact to look down on his lap. His fingers started to nervously twist the edge of his oversized t-shirt. The neckline was low enough to show his collarbone jutting out unnaturally. The boy was in serious need of fattening up. “I’m really sorry I made a mess,” he mumbled. “Are you mad?”

“No, I’m more worried that you’d hurt yourself. In future, please ask someone to help you whenever you’re in the kitchen.”

“Mom’s not up yet. She stayed up all night rushing a deadline. She told me not to touch anything. But I’m hungry, and I don’t wanna eat Froot Loops. I figured that I’d break some eggs and bring it to her so that she could whisk ‘em.”

Ignis pursed his lips. He hated Froot Loops on principle, because to him, they’re nothing more than processed wheat overloaded with sugar and a handful of vitamins merely tossed in as an afterthought. He’d be damned if he was going to allow his son to consume diabetes-inducing, cancer-causing, synthetic-flavoured-and-coloured  _ garbage _ for as long as  _ he  _ was around. 

“You  _ are _ angry!” Julian exclaimed, brows drawn up in consternation. “I prolly shouldn’t tell you that I broke the tv too.”

Sudden panic gripped Ignis. “What? What’s wrong with the-” He craned his neck towards the living room. The television was thankfully still upright, but the screen was showing the blue background of the AV channel. 

He looked back at Julian. “That can be fixed,” he said. “So does this-” he pointed at the destruction on the floor. “There’s still ways to salvage this situation. What say you we surprise your mother with breakfast, hm? What do you think we should make?”

Julian gaped. “Can I ask for  _ anything?” _

“As long as we have the ingredients, yes you can.” 

“And you can make it?” he asked, slight skepticism tingeing his tone, as if he was making doubly sure. 

“You bore testament to my culinary skills yesterday.” Ignis had made them brunch the moment they got back from the train station. “Judging from how appreciative you were of my offering, I daresay my audition was a raving success.” 

A smile slowly spread across Julian’s face, widening as he remembered what Kupo’s Happy Family always had for breakfast. “Then, can we make heart-shaped pancakes and strawberry milkshakes?”

Ignis made a show of thinking it over. “I suppose we can.”

“Yaay!”

“Now - it is a very important task, and I’m going to need an extra pair of hands. Do you think you could help me? I only have two, you see...and something tells me you’re  _ very _ good at breaking eggs.” He gave a tiny wink and a smile as he said that.   

“Sure!”

“Alright, let’s get you all cleaned up first.”

* * *

Ignis was unsure, and when he was unsure, he began to think about shogi. 

He really couldn’t help it. Julian was perched by the kitchen counter, chin in hand as the boy watched his every movement carefully, like a punter eyeballing a bookie. He’d helped pour in the flour when asked, and even tried his hand at whisking the eggs into the batter. The comforting drone of the television served as a background noise to what would otherwise be a painfully awkward scene (after much debate, they’d both finally settled on Kamen Rider, because Julian recalled watching the show while he was at Gralea). Ignis felt as if some commentary should be at play here. Julian was probably curious about what he was doing. 

But everytime he opened his mouth, he couldn’t even begin to say anything appropriate. Everything that was playing in his mind sounded dull and too academic. He couldn’t make silly jokes, and he most certainly don’t know how to modify his speech pattern that could fit the understanding and perspective of a six-year-old. The last six-year-old he’d ever interacted with was Noctis, and that was  _ easy.  _

Sometimes staff and colleagues would bring their children to work, and sometimes they would push said offspring in front of Ignis in an attempt to introduce them. He was...pleasant, at best, but his overall dry demeanour meant that the children found him uninteresting...if not a bit scary. Nothing went beyond the formal handshake and small talk, and Ignis was content on letting it be that way. He never imagined that he’d have to learn how to properly interact with a child someday. 

He tried to think about shogi again.   

There was a shogi board locked in a glass display at his office, its pieces still placed in mid-play. He’d study it sometimes, trying to read his opponent’s moves and mentally countering with his own. His bishop was in a good position to capture his opponent’s pawn and get promoted, but he couldn’t help but wonder if there was a hidden strategy at play here. His opponent was known to spring nasty surprise attacks, dropping captured pieces and outmaneuvering Ignis. He’d learned a lot just by playing against the man alone.  

During the rare moments where he  _ could _ beat his opponent, the man would look at him so proudly, congratulating him and yet warning him that the same strategy might not work the second time around. It was an advice that he’d taken to heart; and it has also served him well throughout his career. 

Bless King Regis and his wisdom. 

That locked shogi board was the final game they’d ever played together before his untimely demise. It now served as a totem, a reminder to Ignis...of what? Of the joys and pitfalls of shogi. Of the importance of thinking a hundred steps ahead. Of always being prepared.

Well, he  _ definitely  _ wasn’t prepared for this. 

Fortunately, Julian was more than willing to hold the conch of conversation first. 

“Saw this inna book, once. ‘Bout how Kupo likes to breakfast on pancakes and milkshakes. Are you really the guy that I talked to on the phone?” 

“Yes, of course. Why?’

“I dunno. I’d expected you to be...taller.”

Ignis chuckled. “Am I not tall enough?”

“Well, you’re definitely not what I imagined. I mean, you said you play a wizard in King’s Knight. Is that really true?”

“Of course it is.”

“So when you said that, I thought that you’d be old. And bald. Y’know, like the game cover art they have on the website? Yeah.”

“Not all wizards are old and bald. Although, apropos to wisdom, perhaps the best way to represent that is with follically-challenged elderly men.” 

“What’s pro-poise?”

“A _ pro _ pos. It means with regards to, or about.”

“Oh,” Julian said, nodding thoughtfully as if he was storing this bit of information somewhere in his hard drive so that he could re-examine it later. “I read the dictionary, you know. I do it ‘coz nobody said that I shouldn’t. I now know how to say ‘de-ca-pwi-tate’ and ‘dis-em-bo-wel’,” he sat back and beamed, so proud of himself. He hasn’t completely grown out of his baby talk yet, which was why the occasional w’s would pepper his words. 

“Very  _ good!”  _ Ignis said encouragingly. “Let’s see if we can find more new words that we can learn together.”  

“I also know ‘fuck’, but it’s a bad word. Mom says it a lot, though. I’ve to keep on reminding her that she shouldn’t.”

“Both of us should. It  _ is  _ indeed a bad word.”  

“Okay, so anyway...about the Kupo’s Happy Family. It’s my favourite book, okay? But I kinda messed up and it’s all ruined now,  _ but _ I can tell you what it’s about. Hey, how’re you gonna make it heart-shaped?”

“By being prepared,” said Ignis. He’d bought a set of fried egg molds which he thought looked absolutely darling, but Aranea had rolled her eyes and muttered dark comments about ‘Mommy Iggy’. 

“Okay, so Kupo’s a moogle, and he’s got a mom and dad and a little brother. He fights a lot with his little brother, but their mom always comes along and, like, force them to play nice. But what if you don’t wanna share your stuff with your brother ‘coz he keeps breaking it?”  

Ignis thought of the countless times he had to become referee to the endless petty squabbling happening within the group during his road trip with Noctis. He’d imagined that if he could send the guilty parties to a timeout corner, or deny them dessert after dinner, he definitely would. 

“Then you reach a compromise. Say: ‘If I lend you this, will you promise to take good care of it? Because it is very important to me’.” 

“Oh. So anyway, Kupo’s dad likes to cook. Like, a lot. He always makes breakfast, and what do you think he likes to make?”

“I’m willing to hazard a guess…fried leek?”

“No! Ewww!”

“Mustard-covered worms, then.”

“Seriously? Gross!” 

“I hear they’re a delicacy in some parts.”

“Igniiissss...I gave you a  _ biiig _ clue just now!”

“Ah. Heart-shaped pancakes and strawberry milkshakes?”

“Yesss! So yeah, I kinda thought that it’d be great to have that for breakfast. Hey, what kinda books do you read?” 

“Hmm…” Ignis pondered over this. The batter hissed as he poured it into the mold. “Philosophy, autobiography, management...that pretty much sums things up.”

“Can I read ‘em too?” 

“Perhaps. But I’m afraid you might find them dull.”

“If it’s boring, then why do you read it?” 

“I have to. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do my job properly.”

“What  _ is _ your job?”

How  _ does _ he explain his job? “I...tell King Noctis what to do.”

“You mean, like boss him around?” 

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” If he could sum up his job in one sentence, he would say that it’s like trying to herd a sackful of kittens. You could never get them to do as they’re told.

“Cool. That’s exactly like what my dad does too. He says he works for the Emperor. I’ve never met the Emperor. Hey, I lost a tooth yesterday. See?” 

“Yes, I can see that.”

“It happened on the train. It’s been all wobbly for a while. Mom told me to keep the tooth. Cool, right?”

“That’s very fascinating.” 

“She said that a new tooth will grow. D’you think I could get fangs?” 

“Why would you need fangs for?”  

“‘Coz I think they’re cool, that’s why.” He drummed his fingers on the countertop, momentarily distracted by Kamen Rider. He should’ve been called away by the siren lilt of the television, and yet he’d remained rooted to the chair. Sometimes when he spoke, his dimple would peek out, like sunlight on a cloudy day. It made his face all the more sweeter and his eyes brighter.  “I didn’t think Edna knew anyone here.”

“Why not?” Yesterday the nanny had enquired if her services were needed, but Aranea had declined, offering to pay for a hotel room throughout her stay in Insomnia. But the old woman said no, asking instead to be dropped off at her friend’s.

“Why didn’t mom want her around? Is it because she doesn’t like her?”

“No, she wanted Edna to have a good rest. She knew how tired she was from taking care of you. And besides, your mother wanted to spend more time alone with you.” 

“Oh. Well, okay. Am I annoying?”

“No, you’re not. Why do you ask?” 

“It’s ‘coz that, somebody told me that I shouldn’t bother adults with so many troublesome questions.”

“Who told you that?” 

There was a displeased pout and a frown as Julian mulled over this. He seemed suddenly sullen, as if recalling this topic annoyed him somehow. He shrugged, then muttered: “I ‘unno. Someone.” 

Ignis stopped whatever he was doing and leaned over, resting his elbows onto the countertop. He lowered his head so that he was eye-to-eye with the boy. “Julian, you should  _ never _ stop asking questions, especially to me. I may not know the answer to everything, but I will try my best. Curiosity is a powerful thing. Never ever lose that.”

“Is that why you're so smart? Mom told me that you are. That's why she likes you.”

Ignis resumed flipping the pancakes. “Oh? What else did she say about me?”

“She said that for someone so smart, you could be pretty stupid too. I don't get what she meant by that.”

“It means that there are some things she knows more than me. Your mother’s a smart person too.”

“Is that why you guys are such good friends?”

“Mostly, yes.”

“She’s your girlfriend, then?” 

Ignis’s wrist faltered, causing the pancake he was flipping to land awkwardly, sending a smear of rapidly-cooking batter over the pan. He carefully scraped it away and tossed it into the dustbin. 

“What does that have to do with anything?” he managed.

“Well, mom’s a girl, and she’s your friend, so that makes her your girlfriend. Right?” 

“Um...I don’t - I - I don’t think it works that way. Erm…technically...” God, Julian was proving to be sharp as a tack. Ignis was starting to find it a struggle to keep up with the boy’s mental acrobatics. 

“Oh, so it’s more like kissing, holding hands, lying in bed without any clothes on...that kinda thing? Is that what you’re doing with my mom?” 

Oh, goodness... _ where on earth does he get all this information?! _ It’s high time he had a long talk with Aranea about the kind of people Julian was surrounding himself with. 

“What  _ do  _ you think adults do when they lie in bed without any clothes on?” he tested. 

Julian gave a perfunctory shrug. “Beats me. Play cards, I guess? I’ve tried lying in bed naked once. Ended up with a cold the next morning. Never did it again afterwards.” 

“Well, that’s probably for the best, then.”

“I knew this girl once, at my old school. She’s really nice. Shared with me her lunch set and said that I have pretty eyes. We slept together, and-”

“You  _ what?!”  _ Ignis almost dropped a whole plateful of pancakes at this revelation. 

Julian frowned, giving him a funny look. “One day she wasn’t feeling well and asked me to go with her to the nurse’s office. The nurse gave her a bed to lie down in, and the girl wouldn’t let me leave. So I stayed. Luckily they had a chair there, so I sat down and fell asleep. Woke up with a crick in my neck too. Why’s that so weird?” 

“Oh,” said Ignis, heaving a sigh of relief. One of these days, he was sure that Julian was going to give him a heart attack. “Forgive me. I must’ve misunderstood what you said. Do go on.” 

“When the other kids found out, they started teasing her. She cried, and then later told me that we can’t be friends anymore.” Julian slumped over the countertop, morosely tracing invisible shapes onto the surface with a finger. “That sucked.”

“I imagine it does. I am so sorry you lost a friend that day. I know how horrible it can be.” 

“Really? You lose friends too?” 

“Everyone does. People change. And so do you. That’s only natural. One day you have a best friend, and the next you don’t. But that doesn’t mean that you should stop talking to that person. Eventually you’ll find yourself another best friend.” 

“Did you cry when that happened? I know I did,” said Julian, and suddenly looked sheepish from the confession. “I’m not s’pposed to, though. Dad keeps telling me that crying isn’t manly.” 

The corners of Ignis’s mouth dropped into a scowl. “Well, I for one disagree. There is absolutely  _ no  _ shame in tears. Tell me, Julian. What  _ is  _ your idea of being manly?” 

Julian thought it over for a moment. “Being tough, I guess? And...and mean?”   

“You see me cook. I also clean. I can even sew, although my proficiency is limited to darning socks and shirts. I do have basic knowledge on embroidery, though. Those are the skills a girl would normally have, yes?”

“I...guess so, yeah.”  

“Now...does your mother do all of that?” 

“No. Well - she cooks, but not as good as you.”

“Would you say that she’s tough?”

“Yeah, she is. And strong too. I saw her punch a guy and throw him out the window once.”

Ignis raised his brows at this little tidbit. “Is she mean?”

“She said we should only be mean to people who deserve it, like steal our things, or being rude to other people.” 

“So by your own definition of manliness, who is more manly now? Me or her?” 

Ignis relished the conflicted look blooming on Julian’s face. He was really thinking about it now, and that’s a good thing. 

“Perish the idea of stereotypes, Julian. They trap your mind, and trapped minds are no better than a bird in a cage. They think the cage is their freedom, and they are safe. Little do they know that they are foolish and helpless. Try to see beyond the edges. The world will be a far richer place to be in when you do.”

“Edges beyond edges?” 

“Precisely.”

“Whoa…” Julian looked at him, enraptured. It was almost as if the heavens had parted and Bahamut himself had given him the Book of Revelation.

Ignis switched off the stove. “While you’re pondering over this complex conundrum, how about you help me mix the milkshake ingredients?”   

* * *

Aranea was a pair of feet tangled beneath a lump of comforter. Ignis settled himself at the edge of the bed and peeled away the cover to reveal her face. Suddenly realizing that he’d never really seen her sleep before, he took a moment to study her slumbering form, listening in to the steady rhythm of her breathing. He reached out to brush away a few messy locks of hair and tuck it behind her ear. His movements were gentle, almost reverential.  

“Aranea…”

No response.

He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Aranea...wake up, love.”

“Mrrrmph….”

“Breakfast is ready.”

Her voice came out sounding cross, muffled by the pillow. “It’s a freakin’ Sunday! Leave me alone!” 

“Are you sure? Julian worked really hard on it. It’d be a crying shame if you don’t enjoy it.”

Her eye opened into a slit, before eventually sliding upwards to look at him. For a moment she seemed like a small marsupial peeping out from its burrow. It was adorable.

She blinked, a hand coming up to rub the sleep from her eyes. “Oh,” she said, rolling onto her back and letting out a gargantuan yawn. “It’s you.” She wasn’t wearing a bra. He could see her nipples peaking through her thin t-shirt.

“Yes, it’s me.” 

“I just had a naughty dream about you.” 

“Oh?” he said, tone inflected playfully. “What is it about? Do tell.”

She smiled, and gave him a most come-hither look. “Climb in and make out with me. Then I’ll tell. Oh, but-” she made a face. “I’d probably knock you out with my morning breath.” 

He snickered. “Then I shall have to respectfully decline.”

“Aw, c’mon. Let’s have a bit of fun, Ignissss…”

He loved watching the outline of her mouth as she said his name. Her lips widening slightly, revealing the neat row of her lower teeth: “Ig-”; her tongue curving around the ‘s’, sometimes drawing it out whenever she was teasing him, such as now: “-nisssss.”

She laughed, rolling her head towards the ceiling. 

“I would very much love to do that, but I have to make sure that Julian does not set fire to the whole apartment.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. Just toss some chocolates at him and run the other way.”

“Would if I could. If only things were that easy,” he said dryly.

“Aw, you're no fun. I’m lonely here, and all I could play with is myself.” She slipped a hand down the front of her shorts, eyes lidding over as she issued him a challenging stare. Her voice pitched a notch lower. “You wanna watch as I do it?”

Damn the woman. Not content with being issued boundaries, she rebels against them, constantly goading him, pushing his buttons just to see how far she could get away with it. And she’s  _ enjoying  _ it, because the steadfast him would be so hellbent on sticking to the rules, especially one that he imposes upon himself. Practicing abstinence? Against this minx? He must be completely out of his mind. 

Feeling suddenly lightheaded, he found himself yanking her arms up, pinning her wrists onto the mattress as he hovered his body on top of her, so close that their chests were barely touching. He relished the look of surprise in her eyes, how her nostrils flared as she registered his scent. She was used to the prim and proper Ignis. She wasn’t used to the dominant Ignis. She remembered the hard edges of his voice when he demands something of her, how it titillates her everytime she sees the sharp glances he’d give her, whether it be of chastisement or irritation.

Does it really turn her on whenever he gets riled up?

When he spoke, his voice was low. Low enough for her to hear, low enough to send tremors of pleasure down to the pit of her belly. His tone promises of danger, and pain...but his eyes were pleading her for reprieve. 

“Do not test me, I beg of you. I do not know if I could hold myself back any longer.”

She shook her head. “Then don’t.”

He dipped his head to the side, nuzzling her ear. “You are,” he murmured, letting strands of her soft hair tickle his nose, “the most-” he outlined her jaw with his mouth,  _ “infuriating  _ woman I’ve ever met.” He pecked her lower lip, as if allowing himself a small taste before withdrawing, fingertips lingering on her skin, full of longing and regret as they skated off of her. 

He straightened up, offered her a small smile. “Breakfast is ready,” he said blithely, almost as if nothing untoward had happened. “Please do join us.”

She watched his back as he stalked out of the room. “You still love me anyway!” she shouted.

* * *

 

Whenever Julian thought about his real father, all he could see was a bearded face smiling down at him from the heavens, eyes full of benevolence and compassion. And because every children would see adults as a pair of nostrils and a far-off dome of a head, earlier incarnations of the man would consist of just that. Now that his imagination had fully formed, he’d garnished this elusive figure with more intimate details, such as his favourite colour (purple), favourite food (pizza), and favourite accessory (skull-and-crossbones eyepatch. Because having a pirate dad is  _ way  _ cooler than anything). 

Since he’d gotten to know Ignis, he’d added another extra feature on how his real father should be:  _ must know how to make awesome pancakes.  _

“You must eat more,” Ignis urged, watching him nibble away at his food. “You have a very important job to do.”

“What’s that?” asked Julian.

“Grow.” 

“I’m the smallest kid in my class.”

“Don’t let that bother you. You are storing energy, and soon enough you’ll have a growth spurt. You’ll be stronger and taller than me.”

“Really? But what if I’m still small?” 

“That’s fine too. What matters is that you’re healthy. And being small doesn’t necessarily mean weak. You can be faster and smarter than all of your friends. That way, no one would be able to make fun of you ever again.” 

“Did my mom ever tell you about…?”

“Yes, she did. That’s why you left school, isn’t it? I think it’s despicable. You don’t win battles by picking on the weak and defenseless. I know a man who trains warriors - Crownsguard, we call it over here. He will tell you that no matter what size or how strong you are, you can only win by using your head.”

“Like skullbashing, that kinda thing?” 

“No. You  _ think.  _ Thinking is very important. It helps you get out of difficult situations. It could also be the only thing that saves your life when you’re out in the field.” 

“D’you think I could watch him train?” 

“You wish to see him?”

“Yeah. Remember when I told you about my quest? The one where I look for my real dad? I’m levelling myself up, so that by the time he sees me, he’s gonna be  _ so _ proud.”

Ignis felt his fingers tighten around the handle of his coffee mug. Why does it feel as if his chest was bursting everytime Julian talks about these things? “I think he’s already proud of you,” he murmured.  

“Ya think so? That’s good. ‘Coz I’m super nervous right now. D’you suppose there’s anything else I should fix? Stats-wise?”

“Yes. Practice better table manners. Elbows off the table, and please do learn how to use a napkin.” Ignis reached for a paper towel and started dabbing the corners of the boy’s mouth, which was smeared with honey and powdered sugar. 

“Awww, I’m a warrior!” Julian protested. “Warriors don’t need table manners!”

“You may be a warrior, but you still need to act like a gentleman when the occasion calls for it. You’ll get higher skill points when you do.” 

_ “Awwwwwwww!!!” _

“And you need to eat everything on your plate, even the things you don’t like. If you’re still hungry, I can always make you more food. You’re fighting monsters. You can’t do that on an empty stomach.” 

Aranea appeared, looking fresh-faced and smelling good after a shower. 

“How’re my two favourite people?” 

Julian gave her a fat-cheeked smile. He was already on his third helping, and he was looking happier than a cat with cream. She kissed the top of his head. “Chew your food properly, okay?” 

She bent over and kissed Ignis too. On the cheek. 

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he said. 

“Hah, funny,” she shot back. “So this is the super awesome breakfast that you guys made? Where’s mine?” 

“We ate it all! There’s none for you left,” said Julian. 

“Whaaat? Ya sayin’ I woke up early for nothing?”

“Now, now,” said Ignis, getting up. He pulled out a chair for her. “We’ve worked extra hard for yours, so prepare yourself for a treat.” 

Her breakfast came covered in a silver dome. He removed it, revealing four pancakes carefully arranged within a smiley face drawn in honey. A garnishing of freshly cut fruits in one corner looked like it had toppled in on itself, because apparently they were made by a pair of small hands trying its best to follow Ignis’s instructions. 

She looked up at the both of them, and  _ beamed.  _

“These look absolutely gorgeous! Now I feel bad about eating ‘em.”

“You should!” said Julian. “You should finish everything. Because otherwise Ignis won’t give you dessert.” 

“Dessert, huh? I bet mine’s pretty special. I tend to eat it first before anything else,” she said with a wink. She could casually talk about the weather and still make it drip with innuendo. 

“Not fair! You’ll get dessert last like everyone else!” 

“Then,” she said, lifting her fork and spoon. “Let’s eat!”

* * *

 

Bathtime would consist of Julian stripping down to his underwear and caper around in the living room. He’d brought out his set of action figures, and now they were scattered all over the coffee table. He was bouncing around on the sofa when Aranea bodily hauled him up and carried him all the way to the bathroom, him giggling as locks of unruly hair got into his eyes. Eventually splashes were heard from the bathtub, followed by more giggles. 

With coffee cup still in hand, Ignis settled on an armchair, and instantly winced when he felt something stabbing his backside. He reached around to fish out the offending object. It was the Grim Gargoyle. Julian was just as obsessed with Justice Monsters Five as Noctis was.  

Snickering, he let it join its other brethren, who were probably frantic upon discovering its unexpected absence. He amused himself by arranging them in a row, posing them in ways that he felt was aesthetically pleasing. Julian has the complete set, including Lamiana. There was even the evil Lord Vexxos, but apparently his original cape was missing and Julian had substituted it with a shred of cut up blanket. It had a fluffy bunny on it. 

He noticed the trail of clothes Julian had left on the carpet, leading all the way to the master bedroom. He gathered them up, and by sheer force of habit, started folding them. He didn’t know why he did that. He’d never handled children’s clothing before, and was somewhat amazed at how small they were. 

Remembering that there was a hamper for dirty clothes by the washing machine, he made to go there when he was stopped by Aranea saying his name. The bathroom door was slightly ajar. From the gap he could just make out the edge of the bathtub and a portion of her side profile. She was kneeling on the floor right next to the tub.  

“Hey, d’you think it’s okay if Ignis hangs out with us more often?” 

He inched over a little bit closer to listen in.

“Mm-hm. I think he’s cool. He knows a lot of things. More than you,” said Julian.

“Hey, I know plenty, okay? Smartass.”

“You said you have lots of nice friends here. When can I meet them?”

“Well, one’s a really funny guy...and I think you’re gonna like him because he loves chocobos too. Another guy looks big and scary, but he’s actually pretty okay once you get to know him. He’s got this super cool sword he uses to fight monsters and daemons...and like you, he’s got a scar on his face too. There’s also another guy, and he’s the most  _ important _ person of all. He’s my boss, but he’s also the king. His job is to watch over Lucis and make sure that everyone who lives in it is happy and safe. You’ll meet them all soon enough.”  

“Ignis told me he bosses the king around.”

“Hah! That’s kinda true. But his job is very difficult too. He has to look after the king, and help him make all the right decisions.”

“Why? Can’t he decide for himself?”

“Well, no. You see...King Noctis has to think about a  _ looot _ of things, so sometimes he needs someone to help do the thinking for him. Which is where Ignis comes in. But that’s not his only job. His other job, is to help take care of you.”

“Why?”

“Because he cares about you. He thinks you’re awesome. I kept tellin’ him about you, about all the amazing things that you’ve done, and he said:  _ I gotta meet this awesome kid myself.” _

“He doesn’t talk like that, silly!” said Julian, laughing.

“Oh, he doesn’t? Well, my bad.”   __

More splashing, interspersed by the squeaking of a rubber duck, followed by the sound of water spilling over the edge of the tub.

“Ah! I’m all wet now,” Aranea groaned.

“Is he gonna leave me someday?”

“Who? Ignis? Not if he can’t help it. Why?”

“Well, if something happens to you, and if Edna’s dead, then who’s gonna take care of me?” 

A sudden, deep pause. “Why all this talk about death all of a sudden?”

“People die, right? Or disappear or fall sick and stuff.” 

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me, kid. But even if something did, I’ll make sure that you won’t be by yourself. I can promise you that. How d’you feel about Ignis taking care of you?” 

“I dunno. If he works for the king, that means he’s like dad, right? Super busy? Away most of the time?” 

“He’s  _ different.  _ No matter how busy he is, I’m sure he’ll make time for you.”

“How would  _ you  _ know?”

“Would I lie to you about these things? I just do. He’s a great guy - maybe a bit boring - but you can count on him. And that’s all that matters.” 

Ignis had heard enough. With measured stealth, he slipped away.

* * *

 

**AN: Go to the King’s Knight website and you will see the bald, elderly wizard. Julian wasn’t making it up.**

**Next episode: Aranea struggles to tell the truth.**


	18. The Devil and the Deep Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian sees the city. Ignis teaches him about the Old Wall. Aranea wrestles with her conscience. Together, they bring home a fish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idea credits to Tabitha Potter and Idoru42 for the for the city tour and doing something educational. I’ve only briefly touched on those activities because I need to add in more context to the chapter.

Ignis bickers a lot with mom. That much Julian could tell.

They’d bicker about anything and everything. It would start out as a debate, then she’d start saying something insulting and he would respond with a retort. Sometimes when she thinks she was losing, she’d punch him - or slap him - in the arm, of which he would complain. But then they’d always laugh about it afterwards, playfully bantering back and forth over Julian’s head.

Whenever they were in the same room, Ignis would find his gaze gravitated towards her, almost as if it was a natural thing, like it was something he’d always done since forever. He’d take every opportunity, however miniscule, to touch her - a pat on the arm, a hand on the small of her back; and even, when he thought Julian wasn’t watching, a subtle brush of his fingers on her hand. Aranea made no protest. If anything else, she was clearly enjoying the attention even though her mouth was saying something else.

Julian found this rather peculiar.

His mom had never maintained this much eye contact with his dad before. On cameras they were so efficient at acting like a happy couple, but it just goes to show how _good_ they really were in their respective jobs. That’s the only thing she and him had in common: the proclivity to lie and construct stories around themselves. But while Ardyn was vicious, Aranea was not. He’d assumed that motherhood had softened her - and it did - but at the same time it made her even more tenacious than ever.

Back at their old home, before Ardyn moved to Gralea with the reluctant Julian on tow, they’d barely spoke to each other, sometimes exchanging a few trite words and no more. There was a certain...lethargy hanging over them, almost as if words were no longer necessary. It was like a violent storm had passed, and now the world was holding its breath. That full-blown war waging between them was so secret that Julian couldn’t see it; but dire enough for him to sense it. He could tell from the way his mother once smashed the phone against the wall, or how she’d retreat to her studio and say that she’s working when all she actually did was cry.

Julian had tried to cheer her up one day. He’d walked up to her, place his small (and sticky from Play-Doh) hands on her face, and said with as much conviction and earnestness he could muster: “You’re beautiful, mom.” He then stroked her hair, the same way she would do when she’s rescuing him from thunderstorms, or nightmares, or the cruelty of children from the playground. “Evwything’s gonna be okay.”

She still had tears then, but she’d managed to choke out a laughter. “Ya think I’m pretty like this?”

“Of course! You’re always pretty. I don’t think dad would be so mean to you if he knew how gorgeous you are. I love you so much. You know that, right?” That’s what she’d always say to him: _I love you. You know that, right?_

She’d hugged him then, crushing him so hard that his ribs felt compressed.

And then the next day he didn’t see her for a long, long time.

It’s good to look at her being happy now. He’d missed her jokes, her hugs, and most of all her smiles. Well, he sees a lot of it now, and she does it even more when Ignis was around.          

The best way to travel in Insomnia was by monorail. Ignis begged to differ. But this time Aranea won the debate. Julian was on his knees on his seat, palms pressed against the glass window as he eyed the city’s skyline passing by. Urban planning had ensured the monorail’s route to pass by the most scenic places. The original concept had been to make people fall in love with the city, and sure enough, by the time they’d reached their stop, Julian was already enamoured. Insomnia had opened her welcoming arms to him, and he’d fallen right into her bosom. He happily said that he’s going to live there forever - a declaration that caused Aranea’s grin to fade a notch. Ignis noticed, just like he’d always would when it came to her.    

“There’s so many giants here.”

“Giants?” said Ignis.

Julian pointed at a colossal statue supporting the beam of a flyover, massive wings casting long shadows onto the ground. It was clad in a full regalia of armour, details of its family crest carved in bas relief on its breastplate impressive even from this distance. As the monorail sped closer, sunlight glinted against its horned helmet. “It looks kinda scary.”

“Ah, it’s may be scary, but it’s supposed to protect us.”

“Protect us?” Julian echoed. “How?”

“Did you know that these giant statues can actually move?”

“No way! Like mecha robots, that kinda thing?”

“In a way, yes.”

“So they can fight? Shoot missiles and stuff? How come they’re not moving now?”

“Well, they’re standing guard for now. These are part of what we call the Old Wall. It has been around for a very long time... _thousands_ of years ago. You and I weren’t even born yet when it came about. It is said that only during times of dire need, when Insomnia is under attack by her enemies, our king has the power to summon them, and command them to fight and protect the city.”

“Whoaaa. Cool!”

“Just imagine: a dozen of these, walking around the city, blocking the sun wherever they go.”

“That’d be totally awesome!”

The tracks curved along the financial district, and for a moment they caught sight of the bay area flashing between the buildings, the rippling waters twinkling like shards of diamonds. Arching across the river was a massive highway bridge spanning all the way to the downtown area where all the shopping and entertainment areas were.

“How do you find Crown City so far?” Ignis asked. “Is it any different from Gralea?”

Julian thought about this. Both cities were _vastly_ different. Gralea to him was dreary and depressing, with its heavily industrialized landscape, and permanent smog. His father’s workplace was no better. The people that he saw were either grim and unfriendly, or weren’t people at all. They were magitek soldiers, and they were terrifying. He actually cowered behind his father’s coat when he saw two of them march past in the corridor.  

“I like it here. It’s way better than Gralea,” said Julian. A look of worry suddenly crossed his face. “Mom, do I have to go back there?”

“To Gralea? No freaking way,” Aranea grunted.

“Then...I can really stay here? Forever?”

Her eyes met Ignis’s over the boy’s head. “Ignis is working on that.”

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

_Oh, baby...if only you knew…_

The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten her lower lip. A sure sign that she was feeling troubled. “It means that we’ll talk about it later tonight ‘coz we’re almost at our stop. You know who’s gonna be meeting us, right?”

Julian brightened up, his vexation instantly forgotten. Aranea envied him for that. “Yeah!”

They were greeted at the ticket gate by two very familiar figures.

“There’s the lil’ slugger!” Wedge exclaimed, scooping Julian up in his arms. “Oof, you’ve grown bigger, mate. Been workin’ out, ‘ave ya?”

“U-huh! Soon I can beat your bench press record!” said Julian happily. He patted Wedge’s face, feeling the stubble beneath his fingers. “You haven’t shaved since I last saw you?”

“Naw. Been all same-like so youse could recognize me. Alrigh’ there, Ignis?”

“As always,” said Ignis, giving him a stately nod.

“Don’t get him anything weird,” said Aranea, passing Biggs a wad of cash. “And by weird you know what I mean.”

“Gotcha,” said Biggs, winking. “We’ll just hit the Nyan Nyan club real quick and check out the birds there. With this looker-” he reached out to pinch Julian’s cheek, “-they’ll let us in fer free.”

“No cabaret clubs,” Ignis said instantly, appalled at the mere suggestion.

“Of _course_ not,” Aranea retorted. “Where can you find one open at this hour?”

As Biggs and Wedge walked away with Julian, they could just hear the boy’s voice floating back at them: “What’s a cabaret club?”

Aranea felt Ignis’s eyes on her. “Calm your tits. They’ll be fine,” she said. “I figured that he should first hang out with people he already know...just to ease him into things. Those two are practically his uncles. Crazy stupid uncles.”

Ignis now had a sudden inkling on where Julian got his mature talk from. Suspicion dripping from his tone, he asked: “Did they babysit Julian while you were on set?”

“Sometimes, yeah. When I had to work and he’d get all clingy on me. He even hung out with the crew sometimes.”

Ignis had met her shooting crew, and while the most generous thing he could say about them was their dedication towards their work, at the same time he couldn’t commend them on being the best example for a child to follow. For starters, they smoke too much, and drank too much. Even worse, they could give sailors a run for their money with all their cussing.

“What do you mean by ‘anything weird’?”

“Oh...y’know,” she said, making vague motions at where they were. It was a shopping avenue, with an eclectic selection of outlets that’s aimed towards teenagers and pop culture enthusiasts. Here they could find anything from kitschy household products to flashy anime figurines. Julian was bound to find something he likes here. There was even a maid cafe and gaming arcade somewhere further down. “Weird stuff.”

She laced her arm around his while he was still pondering over this. “Now, c’mon. We’ve got some dating to do.”  

* * *

Aranea didn’t know the exact numbers, but women were born with a set of about two million eggs from the get go. They’d lose hundreds and thousands more before puberty, and by the time they were ripe for conceiving, they’d start out with about four hundred thousand. With that much eggs, what were the odds of getting pregnant? Given the right time, and the merits of unprotected sex...one in four hundred thousand, maybe?

And what were the odds of it being with a guy she’d randomly met at a bar? Alcohol wasn’t even a factor. She remembered being sober that night, and very upset. Too upset to even enjoy her outing with Biggs and Wedge.   

Sometimes she found herself wondering whether Julian was conceived in a tent by the Vesperpool, or on the bed of that motel room. That detail may seem trivial, but somehow it was pertinent enough for her to want to know. Why? Probably because it indicates a milestone of her relationship with Ignis - a relationship she hardly knew existed until she held the first black and white printout of a pulsing jellybean several weeks later.

That train of thought were flashing past her mind while she was watching Lunafreya’s showcase video playing on a giant LCD screen. Already there were announcements of the royal wedding everywhere they went, shouted out from banners and billboards. There was even a shop that sells cheap replicas of the wedding dress. She’d chortled over it with Ignis for a good two minutes.

“Excellent work, as always,” he said, referring to the video.

“Says the guy who can’t break his Times New Roman habit.”

“Are we still getting into that? What’s wrong if I happen to like that font?”

“Nothin’s wrong. It’s classic. Orderly. Dependable. Just like you. But still, I say it’s a boring font because anyone without any imagination would use it.”

“Yes, I suppose I lack that in painful abundance: imagination. When are you going to tell him? About who I am?”

Aranea’s eyes swivelled up to meet his. She didn’t have to ask whom he meant. She just knew. She knew that the question was going to pop up sooner or later, in a most blindsiding way. It was a dirty tactic, and she’s a top honours student of the school of dirty tactics. Looks like he was taking a page out of her book.  

“Why not now?” she shot back casually. “Just drop it on his lap in one go. It’d be easy. Like yanking off a bandage.”

“I’m serious, Aranea.”

“I know. It’s just...he still thinks that he’s staying here indefinitely. No one told him the plan yet, and it’s up to me to do it. Shit. This is gonna break the lil’ guy’s heart.”

“We can do it together, if you think it helps.”

“No, this one I gotta do alone. I need to be honest with him. He deserves that much. But the you part? Damn. Talk about a double whammy. ‘ _Your dad isn’t your dad, but it’s someone else’._ How the hell do you explain _that_ to a kid?” she said with a grimace. “The more I run it through my head, the more messed up it becomes. I even wanted to draw a diagram! Ugh, what sort of example am I setting here?”

“He’s a very observant child. He will find out one way or the other, even without you telling him. He’s already talking about searching for his real father, for goodness sake! Don’t you think that is a clear indication that he is ready to know?”

“Look, I was just...kinda hoping that he’d only get that urge when he’s eighteen, y’know?” When Ignis gave her a flat look, she rectified herself: “Well, old enough, at least, to understand the - the _concepts_ that I’m about to say. Why the hell did I use ‘concept’? This isn’t goddamn trigonometry!” She sighed. “He’s just too smart for his own good sometimes, that kid. I dunno where he got that from.”

“Two guesses, and I daresay one is very spot-on.”

“Yeah, thanks...I’m the one with the brains. That much is obvious.”

She’d been waiting for his expression, and wasn’t disappointed. He gave her a sideways look, a mixed medley of exasperation and scorn, before the muscles of his cheeks moved up to form a smile. A closed-lip one...very enigmatic - much befitting the man who safeguards a thousand royal secrets.

“Julian’s been talking about wanting to go to the Moogle Chocobo Carnival,” she said. “I’ve tried getting tickets, but those damn things sell out fast, and booking a good hotel is next to impossible. Didja know that room rates triple during the carnival? Capitalist assholes. I hate having to tell him that we need to wait a coupla years.”

“Is that so? Well, interestingly enough, the First Secretary always extends an invite to me and Noct every year. They’d even offered a suite for our stay. I always had to decline because I was too busy, but perhaps this time I might say yes.”

She turned her head around so fast that she almost got a whiplash. “You’re kiddin’ me? Oh, please don’t say that you’re kiddin’ me. Is it true?”

“Of _course_ it’s true. I’d have to tell them that I’d be bringing my family, though. You wouldn’t mind being referred to as Lady Scientia, would you?”

“Hell, they could stuff me in a freaking Kenny Crow costume and make me do the kweh dance. I don’t care! Just as long as we all get to go. So this...this invite. How does it work? Do they send an email?”

“They usually do, yes. And an official invitation pack. They’re really well made too. I should show them to you someday. Last year they sent over a bottle of rose wine, a commemorative music box with my name engraved on it, and a homing pigeon.”

“A what?”

“A homing pigeon. An actual, living homing pigeon. The idea was to attach my reply and let it fly back. Very clever, although I find myself questioning its efficacy. But then again, the Altissians are well known for their dramatic flair.”

“I like it. It’s very...quaint.”

“Along with a booklet and programme card, they’d always add in discount vouchers and - the _pièce de résistance -_ an exclusive, money-can’t-buy front seats to their concert _and-”_ he paused for dramatic effect, “grand finale firework show. Sometimes they’d even throw in backstage passes to meet the performing artistes.”    

But he’d already had her at ‘firework show’. She pressed her fingers on his forearm, looking at him urgently.

“You gotta say yes,” she said. “If you don’t, I’ll...I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” he said laughingly.

“Well, I’d definitely do something...but I dunno what yet!”

At that moment, a stray wind cheekily teased a lock of her bangs into her face, prompting him to reach out and brush it aside. He traced the contours of her jawline, taking note that she’d done her eyes in that cat eyeliner style he’d always liked. A stray lash had deigned to fall onto her cheekbone, and he gently whisked it away with a fingertip. Her lips came in varying shades of pinks and reds - depending on what mood she was in that day - and today it was a soft rosebud pink, darlingly topped with a layer of gloss. It was like watching a cherry coquettishly perched atop a melting sundae - he just had to pluck it away from her somehow.

He leaned over and kissed her. He didn’t care if Julian came along and saw them like this. There’s no point in hiding this anymore.

“Our very first family trip,” he said musingly. “That would _definitely_ be something to remember.”

* * *

Julian won a goldfish.

Well, he’d _claimed_ that he’d won it. Judging from the significantly lighter cash she got back from Biggs, she knew that the morons had fell for the classic boy-with-puppy-eyes trick.

And now it was sitting on the coffee table, swimming around in an old glass vase. It goggled at Aranea with its stupid bulging eyes, creating gentle currents with the wake of its tail while it completed circumference after circumference in the water. She was never fond of pets. Fish especially. She can’t touch or cuddle it, so she really couldn’t see the point of keeping it around.

But Julian was so thrilled by it, even asking her for name suggestions. When she wondered if it’s a boy or girl fish, they spent an industrious half hour searching up for information on how to tell the difference.    

“How come Ignis left early?” He was sleepily curled up on the sofa, head on her lap.

“He’s got work tomorrow. He usually gets up at 5am to get stuff done before going to his office.”

“WIll we still see him?”

“Definitely, yeah. I’ve got some stuff to do too, so I’ll be taking you to the Citadel. That’s where he works. It’s a _huge_ building where all the important decisions are made.”

“Hmm…”

“Hey, kid…”

“Hm?”

“There’s something we gotta talk about. It’s really important. Could you sit up for a minute?”

Normally he would’ve mewled in protest. He’s already comfortable, and he liked looking at his new fish. But there was something in her tone that suggested something serious. Frowning at his mother’s request, he obeyed nonetheless. He stared at her with those curious eyes. Eyes that will be filled with thunder and tempest soon after.

“There’s two things you need to know.” And she hadn’t the foggiest idea which one to tell him first. “One, it’s about your real dad.”

She paused to make sure that he fully understood. When he finally got the cue, he fidgeted slightly and said: “Okay?”

“He’s...actually here. In Insomnia.”

Another pause. “Uhuh.”

“And you’ve already met him.”

“What? _Really?”_

“It’s-” she swallowed hard. By hook or by crook she’s going to tell him, even if the ground opens up and swallows her whole. “It’s Ignis.”

Silence.

Julian narrowed his eyes, suspicious. “Is this a joke?”

“No. I’m really serious.”

“So he’s not a pirate, then?” he said flatly.  

Aranea had an entire script prepared beforehand, ready to explain everything and even justify her reasons. _Things weren’t going so great with your dad when I met Ignis. I didn’t tell Ignis about you because I didn’t want to trouble him. No, what I did wasn’t right; but I’m gonna make it right._ But nothing - not a single part of it - involved her fielding questions about pirates.

“No,” she said.

“Does he have an eyepatch at least?”

“No. Last time I checked he doesn’t.”

“Does he like the colour purple?”

“We’ll need to ask him about that.”

“Is he a secret wizard? Like a double agent, that kinda thing?”

“Y’know, the next time you see him, why don’t you interrogate him about that?”

“So now I’ve a fake dad and a real dad. What does that mean?”

“It means-”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with you knocking boots with Ignis, does it?”

Aranea was appalled. “Who told you that?”

“Uncle Wedge. He did that wink and nose tapping thing when he thinks he’s giving away a secret. But I don’t get it. I didn’t know you could get babies by knocking boots. I should just wear sandals from now on, then.”

“Sneakers are fine.”

“Yeah, and sneakers too.”

“Do you understand what I just told you? This is why I said before that Ignis is going to help take care of you. Not just because he has to, but more ‘coz he _wants_ to. Would you really be okay with that?”

“I dunno. I guess…? He hasn’t even played King’s Knight with me yet!”

She wasn’t sure how King’s Knight had to do with anything, but decided to try to get to the bottom of it anyway. “Would you think about it if he played King’s Knight with you?”

“He’d already promised!”

“Did he now? Hm, I think I get it.” King’s Knight was their battlezone. A test of mettle between gentlemen. Julian had thrown the gauntlet and Ignis had accepted. This was a decisive bonding ritual between them, a litmus test...and it is very important to Julian. Aranea knew all too well the beauty of a promise. And the hollow bitterness of broken ones. Ignis had better not get back on his word. Ever.

She’ll kill him if he does.

“I’ll remind him about it, and make sure that he does play with you. How’s that sound?”

“Hm, okay. What’s the other thing you wanna talk about?”

Shit. That.

“I know you like it here. And I like the fact that you like it here.”

Julian perked up at this. Oh, God. This is gonna be like crushing a chocobo chick. “It’s great, right? We can finally stay together!”

She took hold of his hands in a preemptive attempt to - what? Soften the blow? She never sugarcoats anything, but for him, she just had to try making an exception. “I _want_ us to stay together, believe me. But...you won’t be here long, kid.”

She died a thousand deaths at his expression.

“What...what’s that supposed to mean?”

“This Thursday you’ll be going to Altissia with Edna. You’ll be staying there until I’ve sorted some things out with your dad.”

“What things? Why can’t I stay here while you do that?”

“It’s complicated-”

A ruddy shade began to bloom over Julian’s face, ominous as an approaching storm in the horizon. Three white lines appeared on his left cheekbone, right below the eye. At first glance it seemed as if half of his face had cat’s whiskers. “Don’t say it’s complicated! _Everything’s_ complicated!” He wrenched his hands away from hers, sliding off the sofa and angrily stamping his foot on the floor. “You don’t want me here. Just say it! Nobody wants me _anywhere!”_   

“Hey, listen. That’s not true-”

“All adults do is give dumb excuses when they can’t explain everything!”

“That’s what I’m trying to do here, if only you’d let me!” she interjected sternly.

“Shan’t! Won’t!” he screamed, tears falling freely down his face. He really was inconsolable now. “Dad. Grandpa. You. Everybody thinks I should go away! I’m a half-breed bastard-”

“Julian!” Aranea exclaimed, now truly shocked. Gone was the affectionate ‘kid’. Exactly what he’d learned in Gralea was a clear indication that she should take him as far away from Ardyn as possible. Forever.

“Maybe I should just disappear,” he went on, voice now hoarse from screaming. “That way, nobody’s gonna miss me, or care whether I’ve eaten-”

“Ignis is gonna care.” It was a dirty card to play, foolishly plying on a fragile sense of loyalty. The two of them had hardly formed any sort of lasting bond, and yet Aranea was hoping that by invoking his name would remind Julian that there’s at least another adult besides herself who cares. “If you disappear, he’s going to get really upset. He’s already planning all sorts of things-”

 _“I don’t want to talk to him anymore!”_ With that, he ran off to the bedroom, presumably to sulk. Aranea waited for the obligatory slamming door, but it never came.

She sighed, leaning over and massaging her temples. That could’ve gone better.

The goldfish stared stupidly at her, mouth opening and closing as if it was saying _wop, wop, wop._

She scowled at it. “Fuck off. Think ya got problems?”            

It said nothing. It only went _wop, wop, wop_ before flouncing away to explore the other corner of the vase. It really was a stupid animal.

* * *

**Next episode: Iris gives some well-needed advice.**


	19. Bards and Heroes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea’s past catches up on her, Iris explains the true meaning of tankas, and Ignis reveals to Julian a Citadel secret.

Half-breed.

Aranea hated that.

It was as if being one meant that you were less than human. It’s a connotation that you were neither here nor there - that subtle subjugative attempt to delineate you as the ‘other’, living in a world where there is clearly an ‘us vs. them’ drawn in the sand. It was the cross you were nailed to for not being what people expect you to be. You’re forced to choose between the two halves that made you, because goodness forbid if you choose to be both.

Having ‘bastard’ tacked at the end makes it even worse. It underscores further your outsider status, with shame and stigma pinned to your chest like badges on a decorated soldier. These badges held no honour, no glory. You didn’t fall in battle. You didn’t carry a flag that symbolizes your pride. You didn’t serve a righteous king. All that you really were, was a mistake that shouldn’t have even existed.

All that you were, was no one.

Julian was a ghost. That’s how he saw himself. Or rather, that’s how people around him _made_ him see himself. He was pushed from one place to the next, all the while been made explicitly clear that he wasn’t welcome. He was angry - rightfully so - and he’d yet to learn how to harness that anger like Aranea did.

He was curled up in bed, keeping his back resolutely facing her, making no move even when she bent over and kissed his head and shoulder. A subtle sniffling which eventually turned to soft snores indicated that he’d cried himself to sleep.

Aranea understood his struggle all too well - that odious task of wearing far too many skins at once. Shapeshifting from one form to another, until you end up no longer recognizing yourself nor who you really are.

She was him, at one point. She still _is,_ sometimes.

As Ulldor she was obedient, efficient. Ruthless. Following rules without question, indoctrinated by the idea that the great Empire will protect her.

As Izunia she was the trophy wife. Loyal, loving, caring. But she’d been burned by being too close to the sun and crashed deep into the sea, where Ignis had found her.  

As Highwind, she was free. Flying high into the sky once more without nary the worry nor guilt for being an earthbound creature. She was playful, flirtatious, witty. That charming rogue with the heart of gold and an interchangeable moral compass. This incarnation was by far the one that she’s most comfortable with.

Sometimes these three personas would bleed and interchange with each other. Sometimes she’d wake up, struggling against an invisible enemy, reaching for a spear that was no longer there, looking down at wrists slick with blood, veins open and pouring out essence like a grotesque grin. She’d hear a name, repeated over and over again. A name that was branded on her tongue, compounded by her guilt.

Ghosts of her past weighed heavily on her shoulder. Sometimes she caught Ignis’s curious gaze upon her, unspoken questions hovering in the air between them. Sometimes she found herself wanting to tell him everything. But she didn’t. It wasn’t because she felt he couldn’t handle the truth. It was more because whatever he already knew about her would be irrevocably skewed once everything’s been laid bare before him.

She could bear a lot of things, but she couldn’t bear having him hate her.

She’d woken up and gotten herself ready for the day. By the time she was done with breakfast, Julian was already up, hurriedly turning his head away as if he didn’t want his mother to know that he was already awake.

With a knowing smile, she kissed him again on the head, rubbing his back as she plopped cross-legged by the bed. She stared at him, chin in hand. He’d at least calmed down by now, and was possibly regretting the things he said and did last night. She decided to make the first olive branch offering.

“I know you feel terrible, and I’m sorry I was the one who caused that,” she said. “But I think I should be honest with you, and I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t think that you could handle it.”

Again the silent treatment. If she peered over, she could see the edge of his lashes flickering as he stared outside the window. The world was slowly waking up, and soon enough she’d have to fight through the usual traffic snarl to get to the Citadel.

“The way I see it, you have two choices. One, you can keep on sulking and feeling sorry for yourself for the remainder of your stay here. That’s totally fine by me. Or two, you could have as much crazy stupid fun as you could and bring lots of awesome memories all the way to Altissia. ‘Cause I know that there are tons of people who would love to hang out with you and get to know you. They’d worked really hard too, planning things that you could enjoy. They’d be terribly disappointed if you won’t join ‘em.”

More cold silence. She pursed her lips.

“You’re surrounded by shitty adults. I get that. I’m one of ‘em, and I’m sorry. I just want to let you know that I’m trying really hard here. But most times things don’t go my way, and I mess it all up. Sometimes I don’t even know what I’m doin’. But I do it anyway because I just gotta.”

She got up to leave. Just as she was about to exit the room, there was a rustle of the sheets and something familiar came up:

“You said a bad word.”

She paused, hand on the doorframe. “I know. But it’s either that or I start shooting people. With a shotgun. I prefer the neutral evil way.”  

“You don’t have to try so hard, mom.”

“Why’s that?”

“Sometimes if you go easy on yourself, everything will still be okay.”

She let out a huff of laughter. “Well, wouldja look at that. When did you get all wise all of a sudden?”

“Ignis said that it’s very important to think.”

“Ignis, huh? So I take it you guys are friends again?”

She watched as he burrowed his face into the pillow, like an adamantoise retreating back into its shell. “I ‘unno,” came the sullen reply.

“Hmph. Well, breakfast in ten. Hurry up and get ready now.”

She left with a smile on her face.

* * *

 

Aranea squinted at the script.

 _“Love is hard work,”_ she dictated in a droll tone. _“‘If you’re lucky enough to be best friends, then you’re even luckier staying married for so long. Fight for it everyday, because if there’s anything worth fighting for, it’d be love.’_ What the shit? Who wrote this? Some Hallmark reject?”

“I told you that context matters,” said Iris. “And you gotta say everything that’s written there. Well - maybe we could modify that best friend bit.”

“I should just take a blowtorch and turn this to carbon! There’s no way in hell I’m gonna say _‘the blooming patterns of romance’!_ What, are we doing a promo blurb for a frickin’ wallpaper ad?”

“We’d already said that we’re gonna improve your public image, and that’s what we’re doing,” said Iris patiently. “D’you have any idea how many changes to the script we had to do? The first draft was horrible!”

“Could it possibly have gone from horrible to atrocious?” Aranea sighed, seeing Iris’s deflated look. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t the one paying the girl’s salary, so she had no business telling her how to do her job. Her entire department was already all hands on deck, pushing out promo material after promo material for the concert and wedding. Having a proper scriptwriter for this miniscule showcase clearly wasn’t part of the budget.  

Earlier on, Iris had cooed over Julian, excited to finally meet him in person. He’d initially sat down with them as Aranea got prepped, but he soon got bored and the buzz from the filming crew was bothering him, so he’d slipped off his chair and gone exploring around the room.

“Alright, look. Compromise. Why don’t you and I just quickly modify the script so that I could say the lines on camera without projectile vomiting? We keep the context, sure, but we just substitute a coupla words so that it doesn’t sound so fake.”

Iris nodded, relieved that Aranea was willing to meet her halfway. “U-huh. That’s fine. Also, after the shoot I’ve scheduled two interviews for you.”

“If it’s with Dino Ghiranze, I swear I’ll rage-quit the set right now.” Aranea had said it jokingly, but then again, it was hard to tell with her sometimes. “That guy’s nothing but a phony-ass moron.”

She caught the pained look on Iris’s face, and horrible realization dawned. “It _is_ him, isn’t it?” she said flatly.

“Yeah. And...and Vyv from Meteor Magazine.”

“Of all the reporters you could get, it _had_ to be a poser paparazzi and a tinfoil hat-wearing conspiracy theorist? How the hell is _that_ gonna help improve my public image?!”

“It’s all very last minute!” Iris cried. “And they’d only agreed because I called in a favour. Besides, they both have their own fanbase, so I figured we could start with that. Vyv, especially, is really excited because he’s been itching to write an exposé on the Empire. People have been afraid to talk to him, but you could definitely offer an insider’s perspective. Just think, Aranea. You could be the very person who’d help gain more support for Lucis. We need you!”

Aranea growled, still very much disgruntled by this. “I swear, if Dino starts speculatin’ about my bra size or how much I weigh, I’ll break his goddamn fingers, PR or no! Hell, I’ll even do it in front of the cameras!”

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” Iris said carefully. Then, in an attempt to divert the mood and lighten things up, she nodded towards Julian. Ignis had made an appearance, more out of professional obligation that personal. It was still his job to know everything that’s going on within the Citadel. He’d stayed strictly within the peripherals of the equipment and paraphernalia, watching with a detached interest. Occasionally he caught Aranea’s eye, and he’d offered her the tiniest smiles, almost as if making her a co-conspirator to an unspoken secret. Julian at first ignored him, acting as if he didn’t exist. But the hustle and bustle of the crew had somehow forced him to slowly gravitate towards the man, like a tiny planet orbiting a sun - even though he was trying hard to be nonchalant about it.  

“He’s so cute,” said Iris. “Is he anything like Ignis?”

“A smartass mouth, maybe. And a talent for annoying the shit outta me.”

“You guys are so lucky to have each other.”

“Yeah? I guess.”

“I think it’s awesome that you’re doing this.”

“What? Recording myself talking about something I’ve a smidgen of a belief in while trying to convince people to watch my work? Hah. I’d sooner talk about fucking unicorns than about love.”

“No! I mean letting Julian bond with Ignis.” The boy had eventually done a crabwise shuffle, sidling himself closer towards Ignis until they were standing side by side. It was almost comical seeing this mini Scientia, who barely stood higher that his progenitor’s waist, twisting the edge of his t-shirt as he struggled to think of what to say. His face was flushed, getting embarrassed by the minute. They were talking - well, their lips were moving, so presumably they were doing just that. If they weren’t, then they’re doing a stellar performance of synchronized conversations to the ceiling and floor.

Aranea let out a huff of laughter. Then, feeling Iris’s eyes on her, she met the girl’s gaze, and instantly groaned. “Aw, man. No! Don’t look at me like that!”

“Look at you like what?”

Iris had that look of abject admiration and faith, as if she’d just witnessed an incumbent prophet turn water to wine, and bring the dead back to life.

“You’re hero worshipping. Stop that. Don’t make people into one. Sooner or later they’ll let you down and you’ll wonder why you’re wasting your time with ‘em,” said Aranea.

“Well, I don’t agree. I think Noct is one. And so’s Lunafreya. And you too, despite you contradicting otherwise. Why’re you being so hard on yourself? Have you ever regretted any of the life choices you’ve made?”

“The last four abortions, yeah.”

“Oh.”

Aranea burst out laughing at her expression. “Kidding! I was just messin’ with ya!”

“Oh! Ahaha!” Iris laughed too, although it came out a tad uncertain.

“Seriously. What’s with the googly eyes, huh?”

“Well, it’s just that...you’re everything a girl could ever dream to be!”

“What...broke, miserable and divorced?”

“No! Smart, talented and beautiful! And how can you be miserable when you’ve got Ignis all crazy over you?”

“Cr-? No. No, he doesn’t do crazy. Probably the _only_ time he'd get really excited is if I give him a set of kitchen knives...or colour-coded stationery. Or sticky notes! He’s _biiiig_ on sticky notes. It’s almost like a lifelong love affair. What?”

Iris was smiling and shaking her head in a way that Aranea found irritating. It’s the same thing Julian would do when he knows something she doesn’t. And come to think of it, Ignis tends to do that too. Prick.

“He loves you, I can tell. He never looks at other women the way he looks at you…”

“Oh, for cripes sakes!” Aranea exclaimed, tossing her hands up. “Not _that_ puppy eyes analogy! I’m sick of hearin’ it!”

“Listen! He's not big on making crazy declarations of love. He’s not gonna serenade you under your balcony, or paraglide off an airship just to ask you out. But he’s sincere. And patient. He means what he says, and he keeps his promises. Him going all mommy mode on you just shows how much he cares.”

“He wrote me a tanka once. No - _two_ tankas.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Bad ones. A-at least to me. But then again, I couldn’t tell a good from a bad one...so I guess, coming from him it’d be a good one.”

“I’m sure he’d put a lot of effort on it. You’ve no idea what a tanka is, do you?”

“Not really, no.”

“Back in the old days, men would write tankas to the woman they’re courting. A love poem, basically...expressing their feelings and intentions in ways that they cannot do physically. So whatever he said in that has a much deeper meaning than he’d let on. Make no mistake, Aranea. He’s really passionate about you.”

Aranea said nothing. She was taking a moment to really let this all sink in.  

“I suppose he is,” she finally said.

“There you go, then.”

Julian had slipped his hand into Ignis’s, and together they were walking out. The boy turned around and gave a small wave at her. Aranea smiled.

Whatever cloud of familial bliss she was on, however, was popped when someone slipped into her field of vision, effectively blocking out those two.

“Mornin’ toots!” Dino beamed down at her. “I saw ya lookin’ all nice an’ pretty, so’s I just gotta come over and say hi.”

She groaned internally.

* * *

 

“I already know who you are. Mom told me,” said Julian.

“Did she now?” said Ignis.

“And just so we’re clear? I’m not gonna call you ‘dad’,” he went on flatly.

“Fair enough. I suppose these things take a bit of an adjustment.”

“I’ll keep calling you Ignis.” He paused, thinking it over for a moment. “And Mr. Stinky Butt if I’m angry at you.”

“I shall endeavour to not tick you off, then.”

“I’ll call you something else if I’m _really_ angry, but I don’t know what. Haven’t thought that far yet.”

“You seem to be taking this rather well, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Julian gave one of those semi half-shrugs. “Eh, well...in some way I kinda...sorta already knew.”

“Really? How so?”   

Another shrug, and he turned those brilliant greens onto Ignis. “I just do.”

Julian couldn’t properly verbalize it, but he’d never felt as if he fitted anywhere. Everything seemed like the wrong shape for him. In a jigsaw puzzle of kittens, he was the one corner that showed the sky. Adults had always treated him like he was an idiot. If they weren’t busy keeping things from him, they’d be condescending, speaking at and over him instead of with him. Ignis was the only one who didn’t.

“Do you remember the man I told you about? The one who trains Crownsguards?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I believe he is around right now. We can watch him while he works, if that is what you wish.” He leaned down closer to Julian’s ear. “All of these proceedings seem rather dull, don’t you think? How about we slip away for a moment, and I’ll show you around the place? If we’re lucky, we might even catch a glimpse of King Noctis.”

Julian stared at his proffered hand, before finally coming to a decision and taking it.

“Now, wave goodbye to your mother.” 

* * *

At this time of the morning, the Crownsguard training hall was full of recruits going through their practice drills. The well-polished marble walls echoed with their shouts and footfalls, sunlight glinting off clashing steel and bouncing against the time-weathered frescoes decorating the high ceiling.  

Cor strode up and down the rows of paired off students, training sword in hand, hawkishly observing their stances and occasionally barking out commands to correct it. Sometimes his arm would shoot out, swift and efficient, to tap on an errant limb. Gladiolus was busy with a separate group - slightly older boys and girls personally handpicked by him for showing promise in mastering the art of the greatsword. Possibly the youngest member in this entire room was fourteen. Six now, if the shadow flitting closely on Ignis’s heels were to be taken into account.

Ignis took pause next to a pillar, making doubly sure that they were within safe distance. Gladiolus spotted him and waved, smile faltering when he noticed that the edge of the man’s trousers had sprouted a smaller head. It was peering out cautiously into the world, seemingly taken by the spectacle around it. Gladiolus stopped his lessons almost immediately, making his way towards the Royal Advisor.

“Looks like you’ve brought yourself a baby chick,” he said. “Where’d he gone off to now?”

Julian had been so intimidated by the approaching burly man, but reappeared once more at Ignis’s gentle encouragement.

“Daaaammnn...didja just Xeroxed yourself, Iggy? I mean, look at him! Hey, there! Howzitgoin’? I’m Gladio. Put it right there, lil’ guy-” he held up a hand, palm outwards. Julian high-fived him.

“This is Julian. He is interested in watching the Crownsguard train.”

“Gonna be one when you’re older, eh? Join my team. We’re way more fun than Iggy’s.”

“Ahem, I think it is a bit too early to be discussing such things.”

“Why? Still workin’ things out with her? I thought things’re fine in the home front?”

“It is. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Hmph. Our Iggy worries too much, doesn’t he?” said Gladiolus, wrinkling his nose in such a way that made Julian laugh. Suddenly the man didn’t seem so scary now. Julian couldn’t stop staring at the scars on his face.

“Did you do that to yourself?” he asked.

“What, this?” said Gladiolus. “Nah. A mean guy did it.”

“Did you hit him back?”

“Nope. He wasn’t worth the effort.”

“Why?”

Gladiolus cocked his head sideways, mouth twisted into a thoughtful moue. “The most important thing about fighting is knowing when you should, and when you shouldn’t.”

“Gladiolus is the King’s Shield,” Ignis supplied. “His job is to protect our king at all times.”  

“Still can’t protect him from being an idiot, though. I’ve tried, really. Many times. But if me and Iggy can’t talk some sense into him, then I don’t know what will.” Gladiolus peered quizzically up at Julian. “Maybe you can.” He tweaked the tip of the boy’s nose, causing laughter to erupt, childish giggles emitting from such a young throat.   

Cor, upon taking note of Gladio’s neglected students, cast around for the man and eventually came upon the three of them chatting. His eyes narrowed at the boy, fully understanding its implications. Of course there was a son. He’d heard that much from the grapevine. That the boy would be here in Crown City was unexpected. But why wouldn’t he? It’s only natural for Ignis to want to meet him. By trotting him out for all and sundry to see, that Highwind woman had certainly sunk her claws deeper into Ignis. Trying to pry them apart if she caused anymore trouble would prove to be even more difficult.

Once again Cor wondered if she was either too damn smart, or too damn dumb to be playing a game of which she had no inkling of the rules, nor how it was played.

Gladiolus managed to coax yet another high-five out of Julian. Presently the boy left with Ignis, while Gladiolus looked on, hands on hips as he shook his head amusedly.    

Perhaps Ignis really needs no reminder of his duty and loyalty to his king, and Aranea needs no reminder that a Lucian hospitality was only as good as her behaviour. And Cor needn’t be so damn suspicious of people all the time.

But then again, he’s _always_ suspicious. 

* * *

“I’m quite sure it is around here somewhere.”

Ignis was standing in the middle of the room, affecting a rather puzzled stance. He’d brought Julian there, claiming that there’s something interesting that he needed to see. But all that Julian saw, was a rather ostentatious parlour, filled with uninteresting and old-fashioned furniture. There were no toys, not even an interesting game. The whole place smelt musty, as if it hadn’t been used nor aired out in a while.

“What?” asked Julian, already bored. “What am I supposed to see?”

Ignis was hunting around, seemingly looking for something he’d misplaced. He looked under chairs, peered over shelves, even running his fingers along the edges of tables. He’d approached the paintings on the walls, and began feeling around for something behind the frames. His behaviour was so peculiar that Julian stood staring at him for a moment, before finally saying: “What’re you doing?”

“Would you be so kind as to twist that for me?” Ignis pointed at a sconce lamp screwed to the wall. “Climb a chair so that you can reach it.”

“You want me to what?” said Julian, thinking that this was getting weirder by the second. Why would he even want to mess around with that thing?!

“Please, just indulge me for a moment. I need to be very sure.”

With a sigh, Julian obliged. He pushed forward a chair, and climbed it.

“Careful now.”

He reached up for the lamp, and spared Ignis a quizzical look, as if making doubly sure that the man knew what he was doing.

“Counter-clockwise should do the trick. I think.”

“What’s counter-clockwise?” asked Julian.

“To the left.”

Thinking that any minute now Ignis was going to start laughing, say that he’d pranked him and Julian was going to have to call him Mr. Stinky Butt, the lamp did indeed twist to the left with a slight metallic squeak.

For a moment not much happened. Julian twitched where he was standing, and Ignis waited. Then, there was a stony rumble, and when Julian looked, a small doorway had opened up right next to the mantelpiece. There was nothing but wall before that.

“Ah, splendid!” Ignis beamed. “For a moment there I was afraid that I’d brought you to the wrong room! Come now. Let’s not dilly-dally.” Taking note of Julian’s still gaping face, he leaned over and said: “Edges beyond edges. Remember what I said. Sometimes the best way to hide something is in plain sight.”

He helped Julian hop off the chair, before putting it back to its rightful place.

“Secret passageways,” said Ignis by way of explaining as he led them both in. “There’s an entire network running throughout the Citadel. Meant to safely move around the Royal family and their retinue in times of danger. I now use them for shortcuts.”

“Do you know _all_ of them?” Julian asked, amazed. Behind them the doorway resealed itself.

“No. Few people do, actually. It is meant to be just that: a secret. So you must absolutely promise not to tell anyone. Can you do that?”

“Sure!” The narrow, cobwebbed walls opened up an entirely new world for Julian, and he was deeply intrigued. Here it was just bare bones - unadorned brick walls, cloudy with age, interspersed by a tiny window every few yards or so. Sometimes they’d pass by intersections, where conversation could heard loud and clear from the other side. Ignis smiled at Julian’s questioning look.

“Plenty of secrets could be gleaned, if you’d just _listen,”_ he said in a low voice.

He led Julian up several more flights of stairs, always glancing back to make sure that the boy was following, slowing down whenever he needed catching up. When Ignis wasn’t watching, Julian stared at his back, something akin to admiration glowing within his breastbone. Ignis certainly knew a lot of wonderful things. Maybe it’s not so bad to have him as a dad after all.

Presently they reached another panelled wall, looking seemingly ordinary save for an incongruous switch affixed at the side.

“If you could do the honours,” said Ignis with a flourished gesture towards the switch.

A segment of the wall slid open. Ignis allowed Julian to slip through first, before he followed suit.

This room was grander, and not as stuffily furnished as the parlour. Julian looked around at the bookshelves, at the glass-encased shogi set, at the _tick-tocking_ clock, and the overall airiness of the place.

“Julian,” said Ignis, a big smile on his face. “Welcome to my office.”

* * *

 

The Citadel was a labyrinth of a building. Having being built upon, and added on to its foundations for the past two millennia or so, it has become a somewhat living and breathing entity, swallowing secrets and whispering out some of its own through its very cracks and crenellations. Some parts were even claimed to be haunted by the ghosts of its predecessors. A progression through the ages could be clearly seen from some of the rooms. The servants’ quarters, for example, still bore the rough-hewn stone walls erected by the very first forefathers of Lucis, harking back to the time when they’d placed the first cornerstone. What used to be stables meant to house chocobo mounts was now a separate training ground and barracks for the Kingsglaives.

A very clever and enterprising person, who is adept enough at manipulating the CCTV’s blind spots, would know that there were a few locations that were free from prying eyes and therefore a perfect place to hold the occasional _tête-à-tête,_ or simply to catch a quick forty winks without their supervisors knowing.

One of it was a seemingly abandoned alcove, tucked far away from the usual staff traffic. It was cleverly hidden by a hodgepodge of old furniture, built up over the years until it was a fortress all by itself.

A figure surreptitiously slunk into the shadows, scuffing its feet over the floor until eventually it was joined by another.

“Well, you’ve certainly taken your own damn time,” the first person grumbled.

“Came here as fast as I could, didn’t I?” said the second. His voice was pinched, and nasally, like a ferret with a cold.

“What’s the status?”

“Lysander went dark. Her last call-in was fifteen hours ago.”

“That’s too soon to worry. Can’t possibly be easy giving constant updates, considering where she is now.”

“Yeah? When should I start worryin’, then?”

“When they send in a severed finger, with a note asking us to guess which Crownsguard they’d caught.”

“Cor blimey! Really?”

“Unless...hm, no. It’s too soon.”

“What?”

“We’ve been sending her in and out of that place for quite a bit, haven’t we?”

“Yeah. So?”

“Could it be...possible that...we have another Decimus in our hands?”

“Ey, who? What’s this about?”

“Honestly, how long have you been with us? You’re telling me you’ve never heard of Decimus?”

“Oh, I know _a_ Decimus, alright. He owes me 500 gil from our last card game. You don’t mean him, do ya?”

 _“No._ Decimus the Traitor. Betrayed King Regis by defecting during his last mission. Never came back, and we got intel saying that he’s happily saluting an Imperial flag now. Would’ve sent in a special task force to get him, but Reggie said no. Rather odd, if you ask me.”

“Well, no one’s askin’ you, ain’t it?”

There was a dull thud, as if someone was being smacked in the head. “That’ll teach you for being cheeky.”

“Ow! That smarts, you shit!”

They continued bickering until their voices sounded far away.

Aranea waited for a solid five more minutes before emerging from her hiding place. She’d inadvertently stumbled upon it one day after getting lost within the corridors. She’d gone there now to get away from the filming crew and also Dino’s pestering, who’d continued making passes at her even after their interview had ended. Short of making good the warning she’d uttered in front of Iris, she merely threatened to unman him by smashing his scrotum on a rock before storming off the set.

And now she was quietly playing Tetris on her phone when her past suddenly caught up with her, like an elastic band that had been stretched taut and now snapping its way back into a definite painful future.

_Decimus._

Now _that’s_ a name she’d never forget.

* * *

 

**Next episode: Who is Decimus?**


	20. Call Me Scientia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s male bonding time with King’s Knight. Prompto comes over to hang out, Aranea does an impersonation...and Ignis gets cockblocked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idea credits to aimakichan and sternentreue for the bedtime story idea. I...may have inserted my own spin to it, though.
> 
> AN: You gaisssss...I just hafta do it! Saw several fanarts of Aranea wearing Iggy’s glasses, so I’m writing in the scene where she does just that in this chapter...

Aranea knew all about fairytales. She even has one of her own.

Once upon a time, there was a Crownsguard who fell in love with an Imperial while he was on a mission in Gralea. Once his mission was over, he went back to marry her, and they lived happily ever after.

Or so he thought.

She sold him off to the Empire, and soon assumed that he was dead.

He wasn’t. But he will be.

A young cadet had been tasked to interrogate him, to find out the names of the other Lucian agents who had managed to infiltrate Gralean military ranks. This cadet had great potential - top of her class and well surpassing the skillset of all her peers. There’d been talk of her being a shoe-in for Commodore rank once she’s graduated, but of course that was unheard of. No one in their right mind would hand over such a prestigious rank to a greenhorn. But given the fact who her father was, it wouldn’t seem like an improbable possibility.

She was seventeen, and she just wants to kick some ass. There were times when she’d almost managed to crack the Crownsguard open, but the man was too stubborn for his own good. Till the very end he still loved that woman. Dumb shit.

The cadet was getting frustrated. So much was riding on this. This was her chance to prove that she’s no longer living in her father’s shadow. She’d kept thinking of ways to hurt the prisoner more. Kept thinking that she ought to be smarter, and more ruthless.

Until one day her classmate tried to kill herself.

Was asking what’s the point of what they’re doing while sitting in a pool of her own blood. She’d slashed her left tendon so deeply that her hand was now useless. Stupid girl.

What’s the point?

It was a surprisingly difficult question to answer.

The cadet developed something she never should’ve. Something that was so dangerous, so insidious, that it’s wrong for a soldier to possess one. A conscience. They’re there to protect the Empire, right? Not to serve the whims of a deranged emperor. She’d dreamt of leading armies, not hurt a man who was stupid enough to love the wrong person! What led her superiors to even _think_ about giving this task to a kid?

The cadet had had enough. Left the barracks and went searching for the Crownsguard’s wife. That part was easy. Killed her. That part was even easier. Then hopped on an outbound cargo train, carrying with her just the clothes on her back, a handful of gils, and the final thing the Crownsguard gave her before he died.

Everything else, she left behind in Gralea.

Including who she once was.

And now she’d fallen in love with a Crownsguard.

There can’t be a happily ever after in this story too.

* * *

“You see this? This is your passport,” said Aranea, holding the thing up to Julian. She opened it to the first page, where his photo and personal details were. “It’s very important that you don’t lose this because it tells people your name, your birthday, and most importantly of all: which country you’re from. Yours say that you’re from Accordo, because that’s where you were born.”

“Accordo?”

“Yeah. It’s got the most beautiful city in the world: Altissia.”

“That’s where the Moogle Chocobo Carnival is!”

 _“Exactly._ Now, you can’t stay in any other country outside of Accordo for long, because it’s against the law. If you do, men will come and chase you away, make you go back to Accordo.”

“Why?”

“Well, imagine someone comes into your house and you share stuff with them - food, toys, games...everything. It’s fun at first, but if that person stays too long, your food’s gonna run out and soon you don’t feel like sharing anymore. So you tell that person to go back to _their_  house.”

“Or their mom calls them and tells them to go home.”

“Right. So here’s the thing: I wanna send you to a good school here - it’s better than your old school,” she hurriedly added when a wary look began to creep on Julian’s face. “The kids are nicer, the teachers are way cooler...and King Noctis used to go there. He even said that it’s a great place. And you don’t have to worry about anyone bothering you, because Ignis will make sure that that won’t happen.”

“Why can he do that?”

“Because he’s got special powers,” said Aranea with a wry smile. “People are scared of him, even when he’s being polite.”

Ignis cleared his throat. “I do not motivate obedience through fear, Aranea.”

“Right. So it’s your charming personality, then.” She chuckled when he gave her that patented Ignis Glare™. Righteous reproach, added into three quarters of undiluted exasperation, then mixed with a dash of amusement. Shake well. Best served cold, along with some cocktail peanuts. “So here’s the thing: in order for you to be able to go to school here, you’d have to become a Lucian, and that’s easy to do, because Ignis is your dad.”

“Why is it important that he’s my dad?”

“Oh, it’s _very_ important. More than you could possibly know. When you’re a Lucian, it’d be easier for us to stay together. We’d have to get you a new passport, saying that you’re now not only from Accordo, but Lucis too. That’s awesome! Not a lot of people could say that they’re from two different countries at once. Ignis can’t. Nor can I. So that makes your passport extra special.”

“Okay…”

“So here’s the part where I need you to listen very carefully, okay? For us to do that - change your passport, send you to school...Ignis would have to say to a lot of people that you’re his son. He would need to produce papers to prove that, because these people believe in papers more than they believe what you say to ‘em. So, you’re going to have to change your surname to Scientia.”

“What’s a surname?”

“Family name. It comes after your first name. So instead of Julian Izunia, you’ll be Julian Scientia.”  

“But...but does that mean that I have to become a different person completely?” Julian asked, worry etched in his tone.

“No, kid. You’re still you. No one can take that away from you. It’s just a name change, that’s all. But you can’t call him Mr. Stinky Butt anymore either, because then _your_ name would be Julian Stinky Butt.”

“Then...are you gonna be a Scientia too? Because you’re mom, and he’s dad...and we should stick together. You said so yourself! She really did!” Julian insisted when Ignis emitted a suppressed chuckle. Oh, this conversation was moving in interesting ways indeed. “Well? How come _you’re_ not changing your name, mom? It’s only fair if we _both_ do it.”

“I don’t have to go to school, buddy. You do.” Then, thinking that it was smart to appeal to his more basal need, she added: “Just think of all the awesome friends you’re gonna meet!”

“She can change her name too, right Ignis?” said Julian, determined to break the stalemate. “She can be a Scientia like me. We can all be Scientias, like a clan name with a cool logo and everything. We could even have our own theme song!”

Aranea, feeling that the conversation was rapidly escalating out of tangent, sternly said to the boy: “That’s it: you’re spending less time playin’ King’s Knight, kid.”

“Actually, I’ve already got a logo. A family insignia. I shall show it to you someday,” said Ignis. Then, with eyes flickering up at her and a playful quirk at the corners of his mouth which she’d come to dread, he leaned over towards Julian and said: “Your mother _can_ be a Scientia too. But her way is completely different from yours.”

“How? Tell me!”

“Why, she’d have to marry me.”

“Marry you? Like what she did with my dad?”

“Precisely.”

“...Do I _have_ to call you dad?”

“That’s entirely up to you. You can still call me Ignis if you’re comfortable with it.”

Julian fell silent, his expression deeply thoughtful, as if he was pondering the complex conundrum of black holes and the cosmos. When the thought became increasingly confusing, he shook his head and turned towards Aranea. “You gotta do this, mom. We’re in this together. I’m not gonna do it if you won’t.”

Ignis offered her a wry smile. “There’s even a family telco plan we could subscribe to. Free calls and text messages for each member. I’m seriously considering signing us up.”

She shot him an incredulous look. “That’s it? That’s your play? You try to convince me with a freaking family telco plan? That is by far the _worst_ tactic you’ve ever had!” she growled.

“You will also enjoy all the rights and privileges that is afforded to a Scientia. We are, after all, one of the most prestigious household names in the royal court. How would you like to be addressed? M’lady, of madame?”

Aranea glared at them, realizing she was outnumbered and outmaneuvered. “Mutiny,” she hissed. “Both of you. You’ve set me up!”

Ignis laughed. “Oh, come now, Aranea. It is all for Julian’s benefit.”

“Ooh, I’ve got a better idea!” Julian suddenly exclaimed. “How about I change my name, and then once I’m all grown up, _I’ll_ marry you, mom!”

That instantly wiped the smirk off Ignis’s face.  

“Uh no, buddy. Nuh-uh. I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way,” said Aranea.

“Why not? We’re not gonna have babies, ewww! I just wanna take care of you.”

“Well, you’re already takin’ care of me plenty now, and you’re doing a really good job at that. So we’re both cool. It’s really sweet of you to think of me, though.”  

“It’s not against the law to marry our moms, right?”

“Erm...yeah. I’m pretty sure it is.”

“But whyyyyy?” Julian was looking frustrated, the telltale signs of him bursting into tears becoming more evident.

“If I marry you, it’s gonna be tough. I’d tell you to pick up your things, and I’d have to keep on reminding you to change your underpants every morning. Come to think of it, that’s what being married _is_ all about,” she muttered the last bit. “You already find it annoying everytime I do that. Now - _imagine that happening for the rest of your life.”_

It hit her suddenly, after seeing his worried face staring back at her. He’s frightened. The prospect of losing her again was very real, and it was unsettling to him. Things in his life were already moving far quicker than he would’ve liked, so he needed a constant that he could cling to, a static point where he could navigate his ship to everytime he felt lost. And that was her.

She gathered him up in her arms, letting him curl up in her lap.

“I’ll always be yours, ya hear me?” she said, stroking his hair. “I’m gonna be with you to the point where you get sick of me and you tell me to go away. So there’s no need to marry me, ‘coz I’m here. Even when I’m not, I’ll be thinkin’ of you always. If you really wanna take care of me, learn to cook from Ignis. You know I’m hopeless at those things.”  

“We gotta stick together,” Julian pouted, repeating the one thing he felt was important.

“That’s right. We are. We _will.”_

* * *

Prompto was a thief in every sense. And he’d already stolen Julian’s heart.

He’d arrived at the apartment, grinning from ear to ear as he kissed Aranea’s cheeks, loudly proclaiming that she was the most beautiful woman in the entire world - well within Ignis’s earshot. He’d brought gifts - a chocobo plushie for Julian and a chibi Malboro monster for Aranea, solar powered so that its tentacles would wave cheerfully in the daytime. It was meant to be for the dashboard of her car.

With Julian, he’d introduced himself, relying on his puckish charm and puppy-like enthusiasm to win the boy over. He took a genuine interest in what Julian likes (Justice Monsters Five are DA BOMB!), and soon enough, they were fast friends.    

But that wasn’t his only trick in his arsenal of guerilla tactics.

At some point he brightly suggested that they play a game.

And now there’s a ruckus going on in the living room, where the boys were playing King’s Knight. They’d moved aside the coffee table so that they could sit in a circle on the floor.

Aranea merely watched in contentment, meeting Prompto’s gaze as he shot her a very knowing look. They were in the middle of a war council. Ignis was busy strategizing a plan to take down the final boss with Julian. As warrior, Julian was the only one who could spearhead a frontal attack while Ignis bolsters team’s defense with his spells. Prompto’s thieving skills were there as backup.  

The damned idiot had planned this all along.

He’d studied all of the game’s mission campaigns beforehand and deliberately picked one where he knew Ignis’s tactician skills would shine. Prompto was content to take a back seat and let his old friend take centre stage. Occasionally he would chirp in a snippet of information or two, but it was Ignis who issued all of the final commands. It was heartening to see the three of them putting their heads together for something like this.

There were more raucous shouts. The boss’s HP was three quarters down. Now they’re going in for the kill. Ignis rattled out a string of fresh commands, along with a shopping list of special moves which Aranea hadn’t the foggiest idea was for what. They were really getting into it - Julian was hunched over his phone, thumbs feverishly tapping the screen. Prompto was fidgeting where he sat, his body moving as if in tandem with his character’s actions. Ignis wasn’t as excitable, although he had a look of intense concentration on his face, monitoring everyone’s vital signs and granting healing when needed.

Suddenly there was a triumphant cry, followed by jubilant ululations. Prompto pumped his fist, and Julian high-fived Ignis. They were rejoicing as if their favourite football team had won the champion’s league. The boss was dead, everyone levelled up, and they got killer stats equipment. Sweet. For a moment they’ll be strutting around the free world, king of the hills until a new mission would come up, with bigger challenges.

“A toast!” Prompto declared, holding up his drink. “To our extremely capable commander, for whom without him our endeavour would be for naught!” He clapped a hand on Ignis’s shoulder as he said it, shaking the man as if to emphasize just how lucky they were to have him around. “And of course extra special credits to Julian, with his exceptional talents, and skillful manipulation of the attack button.”

“Hey, I pulled my weight!” protested Julian laughingly.

“That you did, sir. That you did,” said Prompto, placing a hand on his chest and giving them a gracious bow.

And that was the end of it - or so Aranea thought, until Prompto reached into his bag of tricks and pulled out yet another one. It appears as if his campaign to curry favour from Julian on behalf of Ignis wasn’t done yet after all.

Dinner was another adventurous affair. Prompto suggested that they pretend like they’re sitting around a campfire, with wild animals surrounding them while they eat. Ignis had tsked at the idea. Aranea threw in the veto vote, however, and soon enough the living room was an imaginary tundra wasteland, lit by candle stubs she found in the kitchen.

And once the mood had set in, that’s when Prompto launched into his tale.

“Say, Julian,” he said. “Anyone ever told you about the time Iggy saved King Noctis from a Zu bird?”

“He did?”

“Yeah! So this happened _years_ ago, when we went on this road trip. We climbed the Rock of Ravatogh, and we somehow ended up in this freaky _huuuuuuge_ nest!”

And so the tale went on. Prompto leapt to his feet, his shadow dancing against the walls as he reenacted the dramatic scene to his captive audience. He’d even inserted sound effects as he dodged and capered like a maniac, painting an image that was worth a big budget movie blockbuster. By the time the story ended, Julian was staring at Ignis as if he was 10 feet tall and he could slay giants with his bare hands. The mission Prompto had set himself on, had succeeded.

Ignis was now a hero in Julian’s eyes.

Prompto smiled and tossed a surreptitious wink towards Aranea.

_Don’t say I never did anything for you, sister._

Julian yawned, and began rubbing his eyes.

“Alright. Lights out for you, kid,” said Aranea.

“But I wanna hear another story!”

“You gotta let Prompto rest. He’s been on his feet, doing all those action sequences. You can ask him - nicely - for another one tomorrow, okay?”

“Awwwwww! I wanna hear it now!”

“How about I tell you one, and then you go to bed? Sounds like a fair deal?” said Ignis.

“Yeah!”

“Very well.” He set down his plate, wiping his mouth with a napkin as he carefully thought about what tale he could tell. “Of all the guardians protecting King Noctis, there is one who is equally brave, and tenacious; even though he is almost never mentioned.”

“Why’s that?”

“Hardly anyone other than King Noctis has ever seen him. He only appears when he is needed the most.”

“So he’s invisible, then?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. But he is real, just as real as you and me.” He smiled, in a rather indulgent manner. “This story, is about Carbuncle. A fantastic, magical creature who once protected King Noctis in his dreams.”

* * *

“Y’know, I bet I can do a decent job impersonating you.”

Ignis looked at Aranea, amusement quirking up the corners of his lips. Julian had been tucked into bed, Prompto had bade goodnight and went home, leaving the both of them with the task of cleaning up. But there was a bottle of wine that seemed lonely and in desperate need of a friend, so they were now sprawled on the living room floor, getting really acquainted with it.  

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” she said with a half-shrug. “It can’t be that hard.”

“Alright. Show me.”

She took a sip from her glass (Ignis had explicitly forbade her from swigging straight from the bottle like a common barbarian), then slapped her thighs. “Okaayyyyy….”

“W-what are you do- Aranea!”

She’d reached over and unceremoniously plucked his spectacles off of him. “Shaddup. I need a prop.” She put them on.

“I don’t think that’s advisable…” he ventured.

“Shush! Don’t you dare laugh.” She scrunched her eyes shut. Probably because of the lenses, or probably because she was forcing herself to concentrate. He couldn’t tell.

She pushed her bangs off her face, and stared at him, her facial muscles tensing up at the brows and slacking at the jaw, her look now melting into a frown with an all-too-familiar scowl.

 _“One must always consider the possibility that everyone is a bloody idiot unless proven otherwise,”_ she intoned. Her tongue had, with considerable effort, navigated around the tricky crags of diphthongs, and peaks and valleys of inflections which shaped his accent. _“Although ‘tis a pity when one chooses to be a fool to begin with.”_ The way she rolled the o’s and u’s suddenly made him want pluck away her mouth because of the stirrings she was making him feel in his chest.

 _“Jolly good there,”_ she went on, trying to sell it further by dipping her voice several octaves lower. It didn’t quite achieve the desired effect, but he had to commend her for her efforts. _“Back straight, stiff upper lip, chop-chop. Off with his head!”_

“No one’s ever said that in centuries,” he snickered. “You are not as well-versed on your subject matter as you’d originally thought, Lady Scientia.”

‘Lady Scientia’ graced him with yet another glare, turning up her chin and looking down her nose at him. Did he really look at people like that sometimes? No wonder Noct had commented that he seemed contemptuous on occasion.

_“Silence. I have not granted you permission to speak! Would you dare raise the ire of the great Scientia himself?”_

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve heard that he could be terrifying when he is angry.”

She stood up and paced around before him, hands behind her back like a schoolmaster imparting lessons in a classroom. She matched his long strides gait for gait, and when she pushed his glasses up the bridge of her nose, he gasped, silently. It was almost uncanny seeing her parrot him so well.

She stooped down to grab a book. It was one of Julian’s. Settling down onto an armchair, she crossed her legs elegantly as Ignis was wont to do. Everything about him seemed tucked in, put into place. Sloppiness was met with the harshest discipline, and it was precisely because of this that Aranea found it easy to impersonate him.

With an affected shimmy of her shoulders, she began to read aloud:

_“I want a boat, says Peter. I want one to play with.”_

Not once she broke character, her accent and posture still intact. For a moment she seemed like a highbrow lady, of proper breeding and education. She’d almost seemed like Lady Lunafreya, even. She caught his gaze, and soon a ghost of a smile entered her voice.

 _“Please help me, Daddy. Please help me-_ fuck, I’m getting a headache.”

“You’re giving yourself an eyestrain, Aranea.”

Her mask was slipping, and she started stuttering from chuckling too much. Her performance was now becoming farcical. Eventually she dissolved into peals of laughter, sliding off the chair and collapsing into a chortling heap onto the floor.

Ignis liberated his glasses from captivity, tut-tutting at its hapless thief who was no doubt suffering from the consequences of wearing prescription lenses. She complained about her eyes hurting, but was still caught in the throes of mirth nonetheless, rolling onto her back and propping herself up with her elbows. She let her head hang back, exposing her throat to the ceiling as she laughed and laughed and laughed. Truth to be told, he’d never seen her laugh this much before. It was refreshing, even though he had to owe this newfound side of her to the wine.

Suddenly he recalled seeing an erotic woodblock painting of a woman receiving cunnilingus from two giant octopuses. At first there had been some scholarly debate on whether she was being raped, but the expression of rapt ecstasy on her face suggested otherwise. At any rate, the woman’s pose was almost exactly like Aranea’s. Suddenly he wanted to be that octopus, licking the wetness between her legs while her lovely mouth sucked on his fingers.

By God, she was beautiful.

And he didn’t need the rosy haze of alcohol to tell him that.

The candlelight painted her hair and face with honeyed shades of orange. Her eyes, still brimming with mischief, alighted on his; a smile gracing her lips now that her laughter had been tamed. He somehow found pleasure at seeing the way her longer bangs would fall over her shoulder, and how she’d push it back with an insouciant shrug.

He wanted her. Right here. Right now.

Possibly at the edge of a table, because he’d never done that kind of thing before.

She would’ve opened herself up to him, inviting him to come inside.

_“Hurry up, dammit,” she would say, giggling as she watched him fumble with his belt buckle and zipper._

_This entirely uncharted prospect excites him, shooting a jolt of exhilaration through his veins as he finally readies himself, poised against her as her legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him in much closer._

_She would’ve kissed him. He’d then thrust upwards. She’d come apart with a gasp, pain and pleasure rippling across her face, evident from her half-lidded eyes and slightly open mouth. She was staring at the heavens, and when he moves, she’d let out a long, sensuous moan._

_“Don’t stop,” she would gasp. “Don’t stop. If you do, I swear I’ll kill you.”_

_Stop? Never. He’ll keep on pleasuring this woman till the moon falls from the skies. He’ll keep on pleasuring her till the day he dies. He’ll keep on doing it because he loves her from the deepest, darkest depths of his soul, and by God he will keep her with him, forever and always._

_“Aranea,” he’d whisper, a hint of a prayer and beseechment contained within the four syllables of her name. He’s silently begging her, begging her to look at him in the eyes because he does so love seeing her when she shatters beneath his ministrations._

_She’d tighten her thighs around him. He would then lean forward, sampling the sweat on her neck with his mouth, trailing down lower to her collarbone. His hands would undo the buttons of her shirt, exposing her-_

“Hey.”

“Hm? Yes?” he said. Suddenly she was looking at him very intently. Had she managed to read his thoughts somehow?

“What’s on your mind?”

“You.”

“Hah. Smooth. You could be thinkin’ about quantum physics and still say it’s me.”

“Why would I want to think about quantum physics at this hour of night?”

“‘Cuz it’s you?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Read this story once, about this island tribe,” she said, grunting as she pulled herself into upright position. “And this tribe was run by the chief, this head honcho, okay? Now...apparently there’s this one guy whose job is to - I kid you not - bury the chief’s shit. ‘Coz they see the chief as sacred, like he’s a descendant from god, so his essence has to be kept hidden so that no one can use it to control him...so to speak. So this guy just finds some super secret location to bury shit. And it’s a cushy job too. I mean, candidates were selected via a series of stringent tests...although I suppose one of it is the ability to wield a shovel.”

“Is there a point to all this blathering?”

Aranea narrowed her eyes at him. “My _point_ is, _you’re_ the shit guy.” She emphasized herself by prodding him squarely in the chest.

“How does that parallel with me?”

“Think about it. I don’t reckon it’s _literal_ shit. I think what the story meant was that guy keeps the chief’s secrets. All of it. And that also means you. Just imagine, all of Noct’s secrets locked up inside that head of yours. I don’t mind picking it apart just to find out a few.”

“You can most _certainly_ try. Doesn’t necessarily mean you would succeed.”

“Aw, holding out on me? That’s nasty. Whatever happened to sharing is caring?”

“I do care. It is precisely because I care that I think it’s prudent to keep certain things to myself.”

“And you keep tellin’ me I’ve too many secrets,” she shot back playfully. She held up her glass, swirling its contents and watching a distorted image of Ignis through it.

He sidled himself closer, bumping shoulders with her as he leaned forth to ghost his breath over her neck. “If you’re willing to tell, then I’m all ears.”

The muscles of her throat moved as she downed her drink, tilting her head back to chase the last drop with an upturned tongue. Ignis was thinking about how much he wanted to kiss her when she belched. Rather loudly.

“Classy,” he said, giving her a sideways look.

“Whoops! That felt better out than in,” she said with a slight giggle. She actually giggled. Aranea Highwind never giggles. But he supposed there’s always a first time for everything.

She kissed him then, a deep, sensuous mating of tongues which instantly turned heated. She found herself being pushed onto the floor, his hands already roaming beneath her shirt and touching her breasts. He was surprisingly impatient this time, refusing to linger for too long on her lips and sliding down to place open-mouthed kisses on her belly.

He was already undoing the button and zipper of her jeans, pulling them down low enough so that he could trace her wetness through her panties...  

She uttered a voluptuous sigh, heavy with languid pleasures. This was really happening, right now. If their first fuck in years was on the floor of the living room, then so be it. She was oh so ready for this moment, and all she could think of was him spreading her open and thrusting deep inside of her-

“Moooommm!”  

Her hands flopped uselessly onto the carpet. Ignis stiffened, eyes glinting in the semi-darkness as he searched hers, silently asking what they should do next.

“Mooommyyyy!”  

She groaned. Of all the stupidest times, why does it have to be now?!

“Yeah, what?” she called out. “I’m out here, kid.”

“I’m scared!”

She was truly regretting the moment Ignis squirted him into existence. Nudging the man off her, she got up and began redoing her clothes, silently cursing up a blue streak as she made her way to the bedroom.

“What happened?”

Julian was sitting up in bed. She could see his silhouette outlined starkly against the window.

“I had a nightmare!”

“What’s it about?” The mattress dipped as she sat next to him, holding him close as he snuggled against her chest. And to think that barely five minutes ago Ignis’s hands were there.

“I wanted to go to the bathroom, but then I saw these giant claws under the bed. Turns out it was this really big bird and it tried to chase me!”

“Well, big bird’s all gone now. Took one look at me and ran away. So why don’t you go back to sleep, huh?”

“Can’t. I’m still scared! Would you...would you lie down with me?”

She sighed. There goes fantastic sex night, sprouting wings and going off like a freaking Zu bird. “Sure, kid. But Ignis is still here. I gotta say goodbye to him first.”

“Okay. You’d better come back!”

“Yeeesss, Your Highness!” she said with an affected drawl. “Ya want anythin’ else? Fluffy bedroom slippers? Some tea and scones?”

“No. Just you.”

Ignis was still waiting for her in the living room.  

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Sorry. Lil’ guy’s got a nightmare. Crisis still not averted. So, uh...raincheck?” she said, giving him a half-sheepish smile.

“Ah. I see. That’s understandable,” he smiled too, although it seemed a bit forced. He was just as disappointed as she was.   

“Welcome to parenthood. Getting cockblocked by your kid...that’s normal. Everything’s touch and go from this point onwards.”

“That’s just how things are, I suppose. I consider it...a preview of what’s to come.”

“For what it’s worth, you almost did make me come.”

“Almost,” Ignis scoffed. He reached out for her. She took his hand, and he pulled her down and kissed her. “Almost is _not_ good enough,” he rumbled against her lips.

“Well, you just gotta do better, then,” she shot back. “Preferably when the kid’s not around. Is there a boarding school around here by any chance?”

They stared at each other, then laughed.

“Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll clean up, then leave,” he said.

“Go to bed without you? Not a chance.”

“It’ll just have to do for now, love. We can perhaps resume our...explorations once Julian is safely in Altissia.”

“Then it’s open season?”

“If that is one way of putting it, then...yes.”

She grinned wickedly. “I like open season already.”

* * *

**Next episode: It’s Julian’s final night in Insomnia, and he meets the royal couple.**

 

**AN: That erotic woodblock print Ignis was thinking of was a loose reference to the infamous ukiyo-e print called ‘The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife’. It’s considered one of the forerunners of tentacle sex.**

**AN2: Iggy cockblocked twice already - first by his alarm clock, then by his own kid. Maybe third time’s the charm? :D**


	21. To Renewed Friendships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wedge gives his expert view on women’s fashion, Noctis and Luna finally have their pre-wedding dinner party, and Julian says goodbye.

That morning, Wedge was faced with two dire choices.

He’d received a text message from Aranea. She’d shared two photos arranged side-by-side, along with the caption:  _ Which one doesn’t make me look like a 50 gil slut? _

He squinted at the dresses. They were both black, and they were both very, er...feminine. One looked frillier than the other. That was the breadth of his knowledge when it came to women’s clothing. He’d usually had them categorized neatly within the confines of sexy, librarian sexy, tomboy sexy, dull, and so downright terrible that he wouldn’t even consider shagging the person wearing it. 

He didn’t even know why he was tasked with this. Usually when it came to award shows and press junkets, she had stylists to advise her, and designers to sponsor her clothes. But if she had to buy her own, then it must be for some private function. Someone’s party, maybe? Who’s havin’ a bash at this time of year?  

He supposed what Lady A really meant was which one showed less skin. Probably that’s her benchmark in the slut ‘o meter scale. So he carefully looked at the photos again. She’d taken them inside a dressing room, so the lighting was terrible. He cautiously picked a likely one, praying for the best, and her answer came almost immediately afterwards:  _ You really sure this is okay? _

Translation: does this thing make me look like a goddamn garula?

Wedge groaned, already feeling trapped by the landmine questions women were so good at asking.  _ Do you like me more than you like your mum? Was that your ex yer textin’? I’m not good at cooking, and I set my last apartment on fire...but do you still like this lump of charred black matter that I made you? It’s an omelette. _

Truth to be told, Lady A’s post-baby body wasn’t as bad as she thought. The added curves made her even sexier, and he remembered during her lactating period her breasts seemed so full that they’d announced themselves first before she even entered the room. 

But of course he’d never say that kind of thing to her. So he did what any self-preserving man did when faced with this kind of Gordian knot conundrum: lie. Lie through the skins of their teeth and hope to whatever deity that’d care to listen at the moment that they could maintain their poker face long enough until the lady was satisfied enough to go away.  

_ Fight or flight, Wedgie ol’ boy… _

He offered a sacrificial lamb in hopes of diverting her ire:  _ I think Scientia would’ve liked that. _

She replied:  _ Why would I care about what that damned idiot thinks? _

Because you two were practically eye-fucking each other everytime you meet? Because it’s nauseating when you do that, but you’d get all spiky about it like some lovesick  _ tsundere _ girl? Because I don’t care that you don’t care, so please just stop asking me these questions?

He said:  _ Ya wouldn’t be askin’ me about bloody frocks if ya didn’t.  _

She never answered back. Probably had gone off to pay for the dress or set the entire store on fire for making things complicated for her. 

Wedge shrugged, tossing his phone aside. Welp, at least that’s one matter done with.

* * *

 

Julian uncomfortably ran a finger under his collar. “This thing’s itchy,” he complained. He’d been made to change into a shirt and long pants because apparently that’s how you should dress when you’re meeting a princess, and he’s hating it already. Ignis mentioned something about proto-coals, and he’d decided that he didn’t like that word if it meant he’d have to skip watching Kamen Rider that night. 

“It’s only for a coupla hours, kid,” said Aranea. She too had broken from tradition and put on a black cocktail dress. Julian could tell this was important to her because she’d been agonizing over herself in front of the mirror while in her Spanx underwear. For an hour. For all the time it took to chase Julian around the apartment just to make him shower, he’d only gotten dressed and groomed for ten minutes while his mother needed a much longer time than that. Ignis had arrived and sat down to watch cartoons with him when she’d finally emerged. 

Julian could tell that this was a time when adults get weird, where they’d get all mooshy - like puppies wagging their tails at each other. Ignis couldn’t stop staring at mom and said something like: ‘You look beautiful.’ and mom would tell him to shut up even though she’s blushing a bit. Or maybe that’s ‘coz of her makeup. If girls really blush that much when boys say something nice to them, then they really shouldn’t wear any to begin with. Boys should just keep giving ‘em compliments for the rest of the evening. 

And now Ignis had brought them to a part of the Citadel where Julian had never been to before: the private rooftop terrace garden. The boy found himself distracted by the beautiful fairy lights, and lingered longingly by the koi pond with its ornamental fountain, until Aranea called out to him and told him not to dawdle. 

The whole place really seemed even more magical at night. An intimate dinner setting for eight had already been laid out; soft candlelight gleaming off freshly-pressed napkins, menu cards, and the beautiful floral centerpiece. 

Julian was ushered almost immediately towards two people he’d never met before. His brand new shoes was pinching his little toe, wearing trousers was gross and uncomfortable, and-

“Your Majesties, allow me to introduce to you...Julian,” said Ignis. “Julian, this is King Noctis, and Lady Lunafreya...our future queen.” 

Julian executed a rather stiff and awkward bow. He was taught to do that beforehand, and he thought that it was rather stupid. Ignis had explained that one should always bow before kings and queens, but King Noctis certainly didn’t look like one. For starters, he wasn’t wearing a crown, and he looked kind of scruffy, like Julian’s former gym teacher - except that he didn’t smell like cheap deodorant and sweaty gym socks. But he  _ did _ wear a suit too, which means that even kings have to dress up nice when they’re meeting people. He was smiling and shaking Julian’s hand, asking how he was doing, and then saying that Ignis couldn’t stop talking about him.  

Lunafreya, though...she was like a fairy princess. She gave him the most radiant smile, and she stooped down as she shook hands with him. She’d asked him a few questions, and when he spoke, she’d listened with undivided attention, as if he was the only person in the room, and what he had to say was very important to her. 

“He’s very handsome,” she said to Aranea as they both watched him being whisked away to mingle with the other dinner guests. “Just like his father.”

“Yeah, well. That’s genetics to you. Seems more like a random roll of the dice, if ya ask me,” said Aranea. 

“How have you been? We haven’t had a chance to speak to each other, and I apologize for that.”  

“I’m good, thanks. Got my hands full with the kid, but that’s normal.”

“When I heard that Ludo managed to get your son back, I was very happy. I’ve been so worried for Julian.” 

“I can’t thank you enough for that. Kept thinkin’ that Ardyn’s gonna pull out another dirty trick at the last minute. He likes doing that, y’know?” 

“All’s well that ends well, I suppose. That’s all that matters, yes?” Lunafreya glanced over at Ignis, and then leaned forth, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I hear that you and Ignis have gotten closer again…?”

“Yeah, we’re - uh - a really good team...ahem.”

“Team?” Lunafreya echoed, amusement pouring out of her very being. “You sound like you’re in a tournament!”

“It really is like a tag team thing. Somedays he’d take care of Julian, sometimes I do it. We pass the kid around, like he’s some kinda ball.” 

Lunafreya laughed. “I think it’s really beautiful, what the three of you have.”

“Yeah. I’m a real lucky girl,” Aranea replied, an eye-roll dictated in her voice. She was, however, smiling when she said that. 

* * *

“Well, well, well…” said Gladiolus, beaming down at Julian. “Someone’s lookin’ good tonight.” Valiant attempts had been made to tame Julian’s errant locks, but in the true rebellious spirit of his mother, one or two still managed to spring loose in complete defiance to logic and gravity. Ignis could almost hear them blowing raspberries at him, taunting him in the airy way they would wave in the breeze. He really wished he’s got a hairbrush somewhere within his person. “Ya work that dimple on Lady Lunafreya, she’s just gonna end up dumping Noct and marry you instead!” 

“Uncle Biggs told me it’s a chick magnet,” Julian said proudly. “Does this mean that baby chocobos will follow me around?” 

Ignis closed his eyes, already feeling a mental facepalm coming up. Forget about chocobos. An entirely different bird species will follow him around if he’s not careful enough. There’s faces that could launch a thousand ships, and there’s dimples that would break a thousand hearts. He and Aranea should be getting ready to face the ramifications of said lethal dimple.

“I sure could get used with chocobos following me around,” Prompto quipped.

“They’re too smart to do that, dumbass,” said Gladiolus.

“Hey, who’re you callin’ dumbass?!”

When seated at the table, Julian found himself sandwiched between Lady Lunafreya and his mom. Both women smelt really nice, so he really didn’t mind. Lady Lunafreya had even requested that he sat next to her, and he was a bit flattered by that. He had never seen so many forks and spoons arranged together before. He couldn’t imagine it would require that much just for the simple act of eating. There were even three glasses. Maybe they gave overflowing drinks, so that’s where the second and third glass came in handy. Luckily his mom told him which fork and spoon he should use. At one point, he’d accidentally dropped his dessert spoon onto the ground, and while waiting for the attendant to bring him another one, Lunafreya leaned over and whispered reassuringly: “Don’t worry. It happens to me sometimes.”  

Ignis had personally overseen the menu, and he’d simplified Julian’s course. So while everyone else tucked in on grilled barramundi with rye panzanella, Julian happily munched on fish fingers and smiley face croquettes. For dessert, he had chocolate fudge cake with rainbow sprinkles and an extra helping of ice cream. He even had strawberry milkshake, and he was allowed to ask for seconds. 

Conversation flowed easily around him. It turns out that King Noctis had quite a sense of humour. His eyes would flit from one speaker to the next, narrowing slyly at times and sparkling with mirth when a joke was told...usually from Prompto and Gladiolus. Julian had a feeling that despite appearances, King Noctis was actually a wise and just ruler. Maybe mom was right about Ignis helping him make the right decisions, but he’d seemed smart enough to think for himself.

Afterwards Aranea got up, announcing the special preview of their grand finale video. She played it for them on the projector, and got a rousing ovation for that. Noctis and Lunafreya were especially pleased, praising her for her work. Julian felt extremely proud when the king clapped a hand on his mom’s shoulder, and loudly proclaimed that she’s the best director in the world. And then he toasted his guests, thanking them for being there.

“To dear old friends, and renewed friendships,” he said, nodding towards Aranea as he said so. “To new friends-” he looked at Julian, “it’s a real pleasure to know all of you. I cannot think of a better bunch of people whom I’d rather be with on our very special day. Thanks for sticking with me all these years. I know I’m not exactly the easiest guy to be with…”

“Yeah, you’re a real asshole,” Gladiolus sniped. 

Everyone laughed, amidst Ignis’s chiding “Language, Gladio!”

“You guys are awesome...each and every one of you,” Noctis went on. “And...to Lunafreya...she knows I ain’t big on the PDA stuff, but-” he bent over and kissed her in the mouth. The entire table erupted in cheers and whoops. 

Aranea’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much. She felt a hand touch her knee beneath the table. Ignis stared back at her with those beautiful loving eyes of his. She touched him back. He turned his palm upwards so that he could grip her fingers, his warmth spreading through her skin. Suddenly she had this urge to kiss him.

And so she did.       

* * *

Ignis grunted, shifting Julian higher in his arms as the elevator brought them up. The boy didn’t even stir, continuing to snore softly against his shoulder. 

“Complete knockout,” Aranea commented. 

“You’re a complete knockout,” he said. 

She gave him a sideways look, lips pursed but not in irritation. “Smooth, ace.  _ Real  _ smooth.”

“For you? Always. By the way, I must congratulate you for stealing the limelight from our king.”

“What? It was just a kiss!” 

“Albeit a rather passionate one. Not that I’m one to complain, mind you. Although it was in the presence of a child, and I shudder to think what photographical evidence Prompto and Iris would turn up with tomorrow.”

“Ah, the kid’ll be fine. He’s already got us all figured out, anyway.”  

They’d entered the apartment and Ignis immediately maneuvered himself straight to the bedroom. He deposited Julian onto the bed, gently trying to free himself from the boy’s limbs, but Julian made a displeased sound and tightened his grip around Ignis like a monkey, catching him in a near-chokehold. 

“Julian, you need to lie down properly, love.”

An unhappy frown and a protesting whine was the only answer he got. Ignis felt really awkward, lying half-in and out of bed with a six-year-old clinging to his neck. His waist was starting to feel strained. 

“Looks like you gotta lie down with him for a bit,” said Aranea. “He gets like that sometimes. If you try to force him off, he’s just gonna throw a tantrum.” 

“Oh, dear,” said Ignis, now faced with the prospect of a ticking timebomb. 

“C’mon, it ain’t that hard. Just scooch him over and make yourself comfortable -  _ that’s  _ it,” she said encouragingly. She bent over and took their shoes off. She’d even removed his glasses and put them on the bedside table. Then she produced a spare blanket and covered them both. “Hope you don’t have to pee for a bit,” she said with a half-grin. 

He didn’t. But he did at 3am when he woke up with Julian’s foot poking his sternum. The boy had thrashed about in his sleep, now spread out like a starfish with his head curled up against Aranea. 

Ignis extracted himself from the mess of limbs, and went to the bathroom to relieve himself. Afterwards he stood by the bed, watching them as they slept. He wasn’t a man given to waxing lyrical about anything. But hearing their soft breathing, and the rustle of sheets as Julian shifted for the umpteenth time made Ignis wonder if this was how having a family of his own felt like.  

Eventually he shook Aranea up, feeling extremely bad for doing so.

“I’m leaving,” he said softly. 

“Wha-? Already?” Her voice was still groggy. “What time is it?” 

“Late enough for me to get home. I will come back later to fetch the both of you.” 

“M’kay. Hey…”

“Yes?”

“We did good, right? I mean, these past few days. D’you think Julian enjoyed himself?”

He hesitated. All things considered, they did pretty well. Had they more time, he would’ve planned for something much better, but...generally?

“I think we all had a smashing good time.”

* * *

Julian stared at the ferry with increasing apprehension. “What if I get seasick?” he asked.

“You won’t,” said Aranea. “I already gave you the medicine for it, remember?” A stray breeze whipped about her legs and suddenly she felt naked. She’d chosen to wear a dress to the pier - that Tenebraean white dress Lunafreya had gifted her last week. Despite her misgivings, the cut had fitted her figure perfectly, and the material really felt wonderful against her skin. The look on Ignis’s face when he saw her in it, was priceless. He’d stared at her up and down, eventually murmuring a compliment as he slid an arm about her waist. 

“Be good and listen to Edna, okay? She’ll be giving me weekly reports and she won’t leave out any bad behaviour. If I hear a single one-”

“I know, I know,” said Julian, rolling his eyes. “No dessert for me. Although, I wouldn’t mind. Ignis’s cooking is waaaaay better than hers. Why can’t he come with me?”

“Hey, don’t let her hear that, okay?” Aranea said, casting a wary glance towards Edna who was making her way towards them. Ignis was assisting her with her luggage. “Say at least one nice thing to her everyday. And give her a hand sometimes. She’s working real hard to take care of you. Maybe...maybe once things have settled down, me and Ignis could come over to Altissia and visit you.” 

“Really?”

_ “Maybe,”  _ she stressed. “I’m not promising anything yet, kid. I’ll talk to him about it...see if we can work something out.”

“Don’t forget to feed my goldfish! If it dies and you replace it with another one, I’d be able to tell.” 

“Sure thing, kid.”

“Hey, mom?”  

“Hm?”

“So, if you’re with Ignis now...are you gonna have sex with him?”

“What? Well…” she took a moment to consider this. “I guess so...yeah.” 

“Are you gonna leave scratches down his back? Because women tend to do that and scream a lot whenever they have sex. Why? Is it because it’s painful?”

“What the-?!” Nothing in the seven hells could ever prepare her for the shit that sometimes spills out of this boy’s mouth. “No, of  _ course _ not! Okay, kid. How the heck didja know that?” 

“Dad watches these movies whenever he thinks I’m asleep,” Julian said with a shrug. “Frankly, I think they’re pretty lame.” 

“You damn well better think they’re lame!” she exclaimed, reaching out to ruffle his hair. He growled in protest. 

“Aw, mom! That’s not cool!”

“What’s not cool is you watching things you’re not supposed to. Stick to your studies for now, okay? Ignis had found some really good tutors for you, so be sure to learn as much as you can from ‘em.” 

Probably by fifteen he wouldn’t think that porn was lame. She’d  _ definitely  _ have to talk to Ignis about this. 

“We still have a bit of time,” she said. The ferry was set to sail in less than an hour. “Why don’t you walk around with Ignis for a bit? Try to wrangle some last-minute gifts from him. I’m sure he’d love to do that.” 

Edna smiled as she watched the two of them go. “They really look so much alike,” she said. 

“Ugh, tell me about it. Almost everyone we’ve met would say the same thing,” said Aranea. She motioned towards an empty bench. “You wanna sit?”

“Oof, thanks dearie.” 

Once they’ve settled down, Edna let out a relieved sigh. Her gout was probably acting up again. Aranea made a mental note to constantly send reminders to Julian to help the nanny out.  

“It made sense now,” said Edna.

“Made sense what?” 

“Why he was so unhappy at Gralea. He knew he belonged somewhere else.” 

“Huh, anyone born there should be smart enough to figure that one out.”

“You hated that place too. I remember the Chancellor telling me once.”

“Nothing to like there. Except maybe the, uh-” she squinted, trying to recall something from the deep recesses of her childhood and found nothing. “Okay, maybe not that.” 

“I was born there.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

“My father was military too. He...he knew your father.”

“Hmph. Can’t be a pleasant memory, I reckon.” 

“He said that he’s very...dedicated.”

“Not to things that really mattered, no.” 

“I suppose you are right. And I can tell that you’re trying not to repeat his mistakes.” 

“Isn’t that what kids are supposed to do?” 

“My father was dishonourably discharged for aiding a Lucian citizen. They found his body three weeks later. Apparently he’d gotten drunk and stumbled into a drain and knocked his head along the way. I was ten when it happened.” Edna stared at her with eyes haunted by ghosts of the past. Aranea recognized that look because she saw it everytime she’s facing a mirror. “I daresay I’m successful in that aspect.” 

“What? Not dying?”

“Being loyal to the Empire. It has never done anything for me.”

“Yeah, well. Join the club.”

* * *

 

Seagulls screamed and pinwheeled above them. A bell rang, signalling the ferry’s boarding time. Already a flow of passengers were making their way up the gangway.    

Aranea smiled. “Hey, kid.” Then, hunkering down to meet Julian eye-to-eye, she said: “Wanna know what it takes to be a real man?”

He nodded.

“Be noble, like King Noctis. Be brave, like Gladiolus. Be smart, like Ignis. And be loyal, like Prompto. Those are the things that makes a  _ person,  _ and that’s all that matters.” 

“Follow this always-” she pointed at his heart, “and use this to think-” she pointed at his head, “and if anyone tells you to do otherwise, or be something that you’re not, you show them this-” she flipped her middle finger at him. Instead of berating her like usual, he nodded. She reached over and hugged him fiercely. “You’ll be great someday. I just know it. And I’m not sayin’ it ‘coz I’m your mom. I’m really good at spotting these things.” 

Finally she released him. “Listen to Edna, okay? She knows what she’s doing. She’ll take good care of you.” 

“I love you, mom,” he quavered. 

She smiled, wiping the tears from his cheeks with her thumbs. “Love you too, kid. Now, don’t say goodbye. Say ‘see ya!’, or ‘hello’.”

“H-Huwwo…”

“That’s my boy.”

Kissing him on the forehead and hugging him for the last time, she finally stood up again. Ignis spent a quiet moment with him too, murmuring words of encouragement before hugging him.  

The sun was setting when they waved goodbye. Julian clung tightly to the railing and waved back, face withholding tears. He probably thought that it’d hurt his mother to see him cry. It was then that Aranea realized that the boy had finally grown into a man. 

“I’ll call ya!” she shouted, even though he was already too far to hear. She felt phantom shadows of his hair on her lips as she kissed him, and suddenly the whole world was a blur. 

Ignis touched her, a reassuring arm around her shoulder. “I’m sure they will be fine.”

“Yeah,” she managed. “They’d better be.” 

“What do you want to do now?” 

She thought it over. She wanted to fly to Altissia, really. She wanted to be wherever that boy was. She wanted to swallow him whole, stuff him back inside her so that she could keep him with her forever. 

She finally turned towards Ignis. “I wanna get some groceries,” she announced. 

* * *

**Next episode: Sex happens. Third time’s the charm indeed.**


	22. Attrition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those pack of condoms Biggs left in Aranea’s bag? Who knew they’d come in handy?

_Are there some aces up your sleeve?_

_Have you no idea that you're in deep?_

_I dreamt about you nearly every night this week_

_How many secrets can you keep?_

-Arctic Monkeys ‘Do I Wanna Know?’-

 

It was by some unspoken agreement that Ignis was the one who’d put away the groceries. Aranea would’ve gotten to it eventually, but there’s milk and perishables...and he was never one who’d leave things unfinished.

His hand closed on an unfamiliar plastic pack, brightly coloured green with a blue diamond logo. There was a certain floral pattern and swirliness of the font to indicate that this was a product of feminine nature. He regarded it curiously.

Oh.

It’s a pack of sanitary pads.

Sure, he’d seen them before, having occasionally accompanied Iris to the drugstore. And he knew, somewhere at the back of his mind, that Lady Lunafreya uses them too. He couldn’t say the same about Gentiana. And he’d seen how female co-workers would furtively whisper to each other before passing along a small packet of something and then disappearing into the restroom. Those ladies put the espionage skills of seasoned spies to shame.

He’d surmised that the true cusp of male adulthood wasn’t their first taste of liquor or sex, but the knowledge of feminine hygiene products. There will come a time where a man will discover a whole range of them hiding in his bathroom closet, or - even better - being sent on a mission to buy them, and it’s absolutely imperative not to treat them as if they’re radioactive. Not unless if they want to trigger a full-scale war and a free pass to sleeping on the couch.

He found himself memorizing the brand that Aranea uses, even taking note of that large information in the corner: ‘Ultra slim. Non-wing’. What, are they supposed to fly off somewhere like the Regalia Type-F? He should ask her about that someday. For now he carefully hung the shopping bag by the kitchen counter where she could remember to take it the next time she’s going on a grocery run. The pads he placed inside the medicine cabinet behind the bathroom mirror.

He gathered his jacket. Aranea was in the study room, hunched in front of the computer. She’d put on some music: a gritty blues rock number where a soulful voice was regretfully singing about the sins of his past. It was the kind of music where you’d normally see a lone figure in a bar somewhere, drinking to numb away the pain of his own existence. It’s also the soundtrack you’d play for a hard-boiled detective from those noir crime novels, standing beneath a street light in the rain while sucking on a cigarette as if he had a grudge against it, exhaling a plume of smoke as he snarls: ‘I’m too old for this kinda shit’. That’s how he saw Aranea sometimes. What sins was she regretting? What was she really tired of?

As he stood at the door, he shamelessly and unapologetically watched her form as her head bobbed slightly to the music. He looked down at her dress. It was a rare occasion indeed, seeing her in one...much less a white-coloured one. He recognized the delicate floral patterns embroidered on the handmade lace, a workmanship that is the hallmark of Tenebrae. This was a royal gift.

This was already his favourite dress of hers.

Perhaps he could make a discreet request to Lady Lunafreya for more.

He cleared his throat. “Aranea, I’m leaving.”

It was then she turned. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

They walked together towards the living room.

“Thanks for today. Really appreciate you sending Julian off.”

“Think nothing of it. It was a pleasure of mine. Do let me know once he’s reached Altissia.”

“You can stay. If you want to.”

She’d said it so casually, as if it wasn’t such a big deal. But he heard it: that vibrato in her voice, a wistful tug of someone who was hoping that she’ll get what she wished for tonight. He saw it too: the teasing bite on her lip, eyes cast downward only to flit coyly up at him. Oh, he wasn’t fooled. This was no naive filly who’d gotten her first taste of summer romance. She flirts like a seasoned courtesan, trotting out that well-used playbook to be used on the men that she liked. And he wondered how many before him had fallen. Her Wikipedia page probably has all the answers.

Then he decided he didn’t care. She’s here, right now with him. And that’s the only thing that matters. He still stood at the hallway, the front door only but a few feet away. He was on a threshold, one foot in while the other out. His suit jacket still dangled in one hand, a precursor of him leaving and quite possibly closing yet another door in the history of his life - permanently this time.

He suddenly sprang into action. Suit jacket fell into a heap on the floor as he strode up to her, grabbed her face, and started kissing her with such intense ardour that her skin burned.

Her surprise was only momentary. She responded with equal ferocity, kissing him back. Their bodies swayed back and forth, as they fought the battle of attrition, seeking out to wear down each other’s defenses. Him a master tactician in an unfamiliar playing field, with emotions as the chess pieces; while she a sly thief with her bag of tricks trying to fool the best poker player there ever was. She knew she’s going to lose this game. Ignis was all in - betting all of his chips and ready to display his cards, which was all aces of hearts. She wasn’t quite ready to reveal hers just yet.

His hands crushed her body to his, flowing over her back, her waist, her ass...

There was a small table at the hallway where Noctis would toss his keys once he’d entered the apartment. It rattled against the wall as Aranea collided against it, mouth still attached to Ignis. His hands found the hem of her skirt, felt the soft cotton rubbing against his skin as he gathered them up in his frenzied quest to search for her thighs and the honeyed delights that lay between them. Six years. Six years was far too long, but he still remembered that night at the motel, on the bedsheets that smelt of cheap softener and stale cigarettes. Of the face and sounds she makes wherever and however he touched her in ways that she liked. It was a lewd secret, almost terrible in its lasciviousness...although for the life of him he wasn’t  exactly sure why he felt guilty about it. Perhaps it symbolizes the betrayal of Aranea’s marriage vows, and the swaying of his fealty to his king...for didn’t he vow to put Noctis above everything else? Could it be possible to be undyingly devoted to two people at once?  

But she was free now, and they both could do whatever they liked with each other. It was precisely because of this, however, that he suddenly broke them apart and pushed her back against the wall, palm resting against her collarbone. He could feel her fingers sliding off him, saw the look of surprise and confusion registered in her eyes. How big his hand seemed, all hard knuckles and wiry sinews, juxtaposed against the delicate pillar of her neck. It’s almost as if he could easily snap her in half if he wanted to. All it takes was to allow his fingers to close around her windpipe, while his other hand jabs her pressure point and rendering her completely helpless...and that was it.

“No,” he said, his voice sounding guttural in his ears. “Not like this.”

He resented her, for what she did to him. He’d only realized that now, when the heat of passion was bubbling in his veins, bringing with it the anger and bitterness. It was a stupidly childish emotion, and yet it was there, lying dormant within the dark recesses of his soul. He was angry, and he wanted to punish her. This was so unlike him. He wasn’t one for petty revenge, and yet there she was, making him feel alien things and wishing to do acts he’d never thought of doing.   

He yanked her upper arm, roughly spinning her around and making her face the wall. He stepped in closer, pressing himself against the curve of her ass, almost growling in pleasure at the delicious friction it caused.

He stared down at the dress again, at the partial expanse of exposed skin right above the zipper. He lowered his mouth to trace the left side of her neck. She tilted her head, closing her eyes as her pulse raced in her ear. She reached back to touch him, but his hand whipped out like a snake, grabbing her wrist and pinning it against the wall. He continued kissing her, his other hand sliding around her body and trailing up to squeeze her right breast.   

“I get it. You probably still hate me,” she managed, arching herself back so that she could rub herself against him. “Would this be much better for you? Doing it without seeing my face? Either way, I’m fine with it.”

He paused his ministrations, wondering why she’d so readily agree to compromise - if compromise was truly a correct word to use here.

“How’d you like it? Right here? Or would you rather have me bent over the table?”

He could mount her like an animal, partaking her body and denying her every pleasure, focusing entirely on his. He could be selfish like that, and the worse part was...the worse part was she’d let him. She saw this is as some sort of penance...a self-flagellation for all the transgressions she’d ever done to him. But no - this is Aranea. Of all the cards she’s played, there will always be one left up her sleeve. There’ll always be something she’d never give up, something she’d keep under tight lock and key like a closely guarded secret. He’d seen it, right there in her eyes, at the bold stare she was giving over her shoulder. _Take what you like from me, but you’ll never have my heart._ That was the sole source of her power, her flightiness. It’s always easy to leave, easy not care when you’re not emotionally invested.

Oh, no. He will not give her that satisfaction of leaving this time.

Aranea gasped when he yanked her elbow, dragging her towards the living room. He pushed her towards the sofa, causing her to land on it with a huff. Before she could even comprehend what was going on, he was on top of her, pushing her down and jamming her thighs apart with his hips. Her left leg fell over the edge, foot braced against the carpet to make sure that they both don’t fall off.

He glared down at her, mouth twisted into that permanent frown of his. But his rapid breathing and blown up pupils betrayed his lust, as was the hardness she could feel through his pants. She rolled her hips against him, taking immediate pleasure at how his eyelids fluttered shut, lips falling open as a needy sigh inadvertently escaped. She reached up to touch his face, but he seemed to have recovered long enough to grab her wrists and pin them over her head.   

She licked her lips, suddenly ravenous. This sudden display of dominance excited her, and already there was a flooding warmth in her womb, a spiking urgency over her skin which tells her that if Ignis doesn’t fuck her right there and then, she’d just have to dry hump him until she came.  

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? You like it when it’s rough,” he growled, voice tainted with need. He dipped down to place an open mouthed kiss on her neck. She arched her head back to give him better access, breasts heaving in anticipation. The tension she was feeling was almost unbearable. She swallowed hard when she felt his tongue on her skin, followed by his teeth as he gently nipped at her jugular. “All that talk. All that bravado. They’re just a ruse. You actually like it when someone takes control of you.”

She curled her lip up, snarling like a feral little thing. Her eyes were glazed over with lust. “So what if I do?”  

She was a rock’n’roll darling with the cynical heart of a broken romantic. And he couldn’t give two fucks about being prim and proper right now. He just wants to fuck. His fingers squeezed her bones to the point of pain, and yet that seemed to excite her even more. There will be bruises in the morning, and he will regret it. But her? She didn’t mind it one bit. She’d got to see Ignis finally baring his soul to her, and she wasn’t afraid of what she might find...because perhaps in a way, she’d already known him as who he truly was...and at the core of it, he was-

“You’re not gonna hurt me,” she stated. “You wouldn’t even if you could.”

“You’re so sure of that?”

“I _know_ so. Lemme go. I want to touch you.”

And so he did. Her hands surged up to his chest, sliding up to his face. Her fingertips traced his cheekbone, left tingling trails over the Cupid’s bow of his lips, before she finally pulled him down on her, kissing him. He pressed himself harder against her, causing her to groan. Her thighs rubbed the material of his pants, desperate for any form of friction. She could feel the hem of her skirt digging into the side of her knees, and letting out an impatient sound, nudged him long enough to break the kiss and lift himself so that she could hike the skirt up to her hips.

“Wait.”

She paused in mid-wiggle. “What?”

“We can’t do this. I’m not- I mean, we don’t have-”

For a moment, she stared at his pained expression. Suspicion dawned.

They don’t have any condoms.

That revelation hung in the air between them like a corpse. Aranea sagged, already sensing the mood waning. Shit, damnation and curses. Of all the times for this to happen!

“We can always do the pull out method,” she said, and grimaced, knowing that it was a stupid thing to say.

Ignis shot her an admonishing look. “I’m not even going to _consider_ that as a joke.”

“Alright, fine,” she said, sliding up into sitting position. “We can just...make out, and...and not do much else.” That sounded so lame. “Seriously, haven’t you heard of the condom-in-the-wallet rule? Every guy should have at least one.”

“Well, forgive me for not engaging myself in the promiscuous mating habits of a witless neanderthal. Perhaps you’d feel much better if I were to-”

“Oh.”

“What is it? Where are you going?”

She’d gotten up and started hunting about for her bag. She found it, tossed carelessly on the armchair. He watched as she rooted about its contents, and with a triumphant cry, pulled something out and threw it at him. He caught it. The next question died in his throat as he finally saw what the thing was.

It was a jumbo pack of condoms. Perfect for those who were planning to not only fuck their way through every single position of the Kama Sutra, but to rewrite the whole damn thing too.

“This could work,” he managed. “Dare I even ask where’d you got this?”

“It was Biggs’s,” she said. “He’ll understand.” She was doing a curious little dance, slightly hiking up her skirt as she shimmied her body like a snake. It was then he realized that she was taking off her panties. It rolled down her right shin, stopping at her calf before she kicked it away to the side. She heaved a sigh, looking at him expectantly. “We still doing this or what?”

Holy hell and sweet mercy. She should really wear a dress more often.

He was suddenly struck by a sense of déjà vu as he watched her approach and stand before him. Where have he seen this before? Oh, yes. That night at Vesperpool. She knelt, as before, eyes never leaving his. Her hands ever so gently slid up his thighs, and he really couldn’t help the slight jutting of his hips when her finger teasingly traced the skull motif on his belt buckle. She smiled a kittenish little smile as she looked up at him.

“How d’you want me to start?” she asked. With a flick of her fingers, the buckle was undone, and then-

-and then he was exposed, all for her to see.

“Someone’s ready to sing the national anthem already,” she sang playfully.

Heat flooded his cheeks as he tried to think of something clever to say, but then that same heat plummeted southwards as she took him into her mouth without so much as a warning or a by your leave.

His fingers grasped fistfuls of...what? Of sofa. Of her hair. Most of all, he wanted to touch her breasts so badly. He sharply exhaled through clenched teeth, feeling speckles of spit land on his lips, which he licked away. Her teeth grazed slightly against him, sending a spike of danger through his veins. Dear God, if she was going to castrate him, please make it after he’d fucked her thoroughly well and good.

Her fingers were massaging him, tongue raking smoothly along his length, sending him into a spiral of sensory overdrive. Just when he was about to plead for mercy, she stopped, wiping her lips with the back of her hand. She had that all too familiar wicked smile on her face as she stood up.

“Aranea, what are you-”

She reached over and grasped the waistband of his trousers and underwear, giving them a firm yet impatient tug.

“C’mon, don’t act like you don’t know what’s gonna happen next.”

Wordlessly, he raised his hips, allowing her to pull them off. He was now naked from the waist down. His shaky fingers were attempting to rip open the cover of the condom box, but all he could manage was to stretch the damn plastic and not break it.

She was already climbing onto his lap, rucking her skirt up so fast that he could momentarily catch a glimpse of her pubic hair.

“W-wait,” he warbled. “I-I need to-”

She silenced him with a glare. She was done with this waiting bullshit already, and she’d made it abundantly clear by gripping him in one hand and-

-and impaled herself upon him.

They both groaned in unison. Aranea took a moment to savour that delicious burn where they were joined, clenching and unclenching herself as she waited for her body to adjust to him. Ohh, it’s been too fucking long. It was painful and glorious and titillating all at once. Her fingers trailed down the front of his shirt, playfully flicking the buttons open as if she was unwrapping a birthday present. Condom box all forgotten, he gently took hold of her wrists and leaned forward, mouth seeking hers. As they kissed, she began to move her hips experimentally. Does he like it slow, or fast…?    

“You’re so-” he managed, but could only end with a strangled moan. He let his head fall back, hips thrusting up to match her pace while a million versions of the same adjectives fluttered around in his mind like a maelstrom of startled birds.

_Wet. Tight. Silky smooth. Hot. Beautiful. So, so warm. So incredibly divine. Oh, God fuck._

And fuck him she did, squeezing herself around him so hard that he cried out, Adam’s apple bobbing as his fingers dug into her hips. She continued her maddening pace, filling herself with him over and over again until the sweet cadences of her name spilled from his lips like a litany of prayers. She leaned over, nipping the underside of his chin, and it was then he looked at her again.

“I’m so what?” She said in a low tone. Her stare was heavy-lidded, almost as if she was sleepy, but her gyrations proved that she was anything but. Her skirt was bunched up around her, and she was still too clothed for his liking. A quick work with her zipper remedied that, her braids falling against her back as he pulled the dress over her head.

She bit her lower lip, a slight frown marring her face. She wanted to take him in deeper, but the limited space of the couch wasn’t allowing her to do that. Her knees were starting to chafe from rubbing against the coarse material, and when she tried to lean back to get a better angle, she almost lost her balance. Ignis caught her arms, pulling her back towards him.

“I think,” he said, pecking her lips, “the bedroom would be far more suitable for what you have in mind.”

* * *

Even in bed, their war games haven’t ended. She liked it hard and fast. He liked it when she’s writhing beneath him. She was still by no means an aggressive lover, partaking and using his body in every way she could. And he’d let her - submitting to her pinning his arms even though he was far stronger and he could push her off anytime. She’d fought him every step of the way, refusing to relinquish control until he’d soothed her with tender kisses on her mouth. And then she was pliant, and gentle, allowing him to love her body the way he believed it should be loved.  

She was more beautiful than he’d imagined - sweat-slicked breasts bouncing as she moved on top of him. She’d leaned back and spread her legs wider, trying to take all of him in; and if there’s any sight that could make him harder, this would be it. He’d touched her - his clever pianist fingers that were once so deftly giving her a sensuous foot massage were now making her bite her lower lip so hard that she almost drew blood.   

She stiffened, head thrown back towards the ceiling as a guttural moan echoed around the room. He watched as she still rode out her high, hips moving in tandem with the ebb and flow of pleasure still jolting deep inside her belly and throughout her spine.

She finally looked down at him, eyes hooded over as she gave him a tired smile. They kissed, and she felt him grip her waist, rolling her flat onto her back with their bodies still joined. She made time out motions with her hands.

“I’m all tapped out,” she gasped. “Can I just lie back and pretend to enjoy it until you finish? I promise I’ll make all the appropriate noises.”

He chuckled. “That would prove me ineffectual. Do you intend to impugn my capabilities as a lover?”

“No, I was just- _oh.”_ He’d rocked himself into her.   

“You were saying…?” he said teasingly.

“Shutup, you,” she growled. “Shutup. Just shut- _oh God!”_ She suddenly bucked, hands clutching his shoulders as his thumb grazed against a particularly delicious spot.

He’d managed to coax out one more climax out of her before he followed with his own.

Afterwards she rolled out of bed, hand accidentally brushing against the nightstand and scattering empty condom packets onto the carpet. They must’ve blown through half of their supplies. She’d have a lot of explaining to do to Biggs in the morning.

She observed herself in front of the bathroom mirror, still naked with lovebites dotting her skin. The word she was looking for, was ‘ravished’ - a possible throwback of her much younger days after a whole night of hard partying. But really: the actual term was ‘just got mauled by a behemoth’. There’s absolutely nothing sexy about her tangled hair sticking out in awkward little cowlicks. She made a few attempts to fix it, and after some careful thought - brushed her teeth too. No reason to enjoy post-coital bliss without fresh minty breath.

She winced as she washed herself. She was sore and sensitive, and if Ignis wanted more sex, he’d just have to wait for a couple of days.

He was sitting up in bed, still awake. He silently watched as she padded over to her luggage. She deliberately bent over, offering a generous view of her bare backside as she grabbed a t-shirt and a clean underwear. She got dressed and then climbed back into bed. The lassitude that came after sex hovered over them, and suddenly all she wanted was to fall asleep.  

He opened his arms, and she snuggled up to him. After a moment she hissed, shifting her hips slightly.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing. Intimate chafing.”

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.”

“No, no...it’s fine. It’s been a while, but...I’ll get back into the swing of things.”

“‘Into the swing of things’?” he echoed, sounding amused.

“What, you’re just gonna stop after this?”

He squeezed her shoulder, tugging her much closer to him - a possessive gesture in his part.

 _“Never,”_ he growled, then kissed the crown of her head.    

“Let’s just sit like this for a while,” she said, sighing in contentment.

“Of course.”

* * *

Aranea waited for the call to connect, eyes absently glued to the television. Ignis always preferred to keep it to the morning news. She could hear him puttering about in the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

 _“‘Ello?”_ Biggs sounded groggy. She immediately regretted waking him up so early.

“Hey, remember that stuff you asked me to keep? I’ve kinda used it up. Sorry.”

_“Eh?”_

She sighed. “The condoms? The ones you’ve bought at the drugstore in Tenebrae last week and asked me to hold on to it. I’ll replace it, I promise.”

 _“The con-? Oh. Ooooh…”_ said Biggs as realization finally descended upon the fog of sleepiness in his head. _“Yeah, the condoms and lubricant that’s_ not _s’pposed to be in yer bag? I’ve no bleeding idea wot yer talkin’ about.”_ There was a distinct smirk in his voice.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Are you-? Did you-?”

 _“Buy a bumper pack of protectives the moment I noticed you and Scientia getting cosy together? No, of course not.”_ He paused, then added: _“It just so happens that they’re havin’ a buy one free one promotion that day. I’ve a membership card.”_

“Biggs, you slimy asshole.”

He sniggered. _“Yer welcome, Lady A. Reckon a pleasant evening with yer gentleman suitor would be cut short without those things.”_

“Ugh. Go back to sleep, you lunkhead.” She could hear him laughing before he was cut off. 

Ignis had made himself decent...to a certain extent. He’d put his pants on, but left his dress shirt unbuttoned, exposing the bare planes of his torso and abdomen. He casually buttered four slices of toast, hair now mussed up from sleep and still looking utterly delectable even in a state of _déshabillé._ Aranea didn’t quite know how he’d managed to do that. He’s probably descended from elves - all classy elegance and mystery.

He greeted her with a kiss as she hovered nearby, wanting to see what he was doing. The smell of coffee and fried fat hung heavily in the air. There’s sausages and eggs for breakfast, along with a healthy helping of freshly cut fruit. She took a slice of apple and ate it.

“What did Biggs say?”

“He - uh - he’s fine with us using it.” Then, as an afterthought, she added: “It was meant for us anyway.”

He let out a small laugh. “Your men know you better than you do.”

“Stop reminding me about that.”

“It is good that they look out after you. Loyalty like that can never be bought. I should take a page out of your leadership skills.”

“Hah, you can’t match my style.”

“Why not?”

“I tend to bend the rules a lot. _You’d_ get anal over a parking ticket. Biiig difference there.”

He stopped whatever he was doing, and delicately dusted off his fingers. “I can prove to be rather...flexible,” he said, moving right into her personal space. “If given the right kind of _motivation.”_ He placed both hands on the kitchen counter, effectively pinning her between his arms.

“Ooh, all those splits and backflips I hear you can do?” she said, eyes widening mischievously. “Or are those just rumours? Didn’t see you do any of that last night.”

“I can make _you_ do splits. That’s something. What other form of gymnastics do you want me to do on you?”

“I dunno. Do they have one called Doggy Style?”

He snickered, lowering his head so that he could nuzzle her neck. “Come see me train someday,” he urged. “I’ll show you a trick or two.”

She uttered a faux gasp, affecting a scandalized look. “Scientia showing off to a girl! Why, I never thought you had it in you.”

“Not just any girl. She’s a really exceptional one.”

He kissed her. She closed her eyes and carded her fingers through his hair, savouring the feel of his body pressed against hers. His hands tightened over her hips, in the act of nudging her up onto the counter when her phone suddenly rang.

She made an excited sound, immediately breaking the kiss and wriggling out of his arms. It was Julian’s ringtone. He’s probably calling just to say how he was doing.

“Hey, kid.” It was a video call. Julian’s face appeared on the screen, looking really excited.

 _“I’m really, really here!”_ he exclaimed. He seemed to be inside a gondola. _“Where they have the Moogle Chocobo Carnival! This place is_ awesome, _mom! Did you feed my goldfish?”_

“Uhm, yeah...yeah, I have.” She haven’t. “He’s so full that his stomach’s bursting already.”

 _“You forgot! How can you forget? I already_ told _you!”_

“Tell him I already did it,” said Ignis.

_“Who’s that? Oh, hey Ignis! Didn’t know that you’re there.”_

“How do you find Altissia? Is it better than Insomnia?” he asked.

 _“Welllll…”_ A conflicted look crossed Julian’s face. It was clear that he was enamoured by Altissia, but he was torn by his newfound loyalty towards the Crown City. It was hard - just as hard as picking his favourite toy when he had many. _“Both places are nice,”_ he said, opting a neutral path.

Ignis laughed. “There’s no harm in loving both. Perhaps Altissia has something that Insomnia does not, and vice versa.”

_“Like the Old Wall.”_

“Yes, exactly.”

_“And maid cafés, manga stores, and...and secret passages!”_

“Secret passages?” said Aranea suspiciously. “What secret passages?”

Ignis made a shushing motion, giving her a furtive wink so playful that it was unlike him at all. She doubted this was a side of him that a lot of people was privy to.

“Great, so now you boys have your own black ops code!” she complained. “Why aren’t girls allowed in? ‘Coz we have cooties?”

“Girls are special in which they require a private tour.”

“After the tour of my privates that I gave you? Damn straight there’d better be one!”

_“What’re you talking about?”_

“Nothing!” said Ignis and Aranea at the same time.

Julian grimaced. _“You guys are so weird. Hey, I gotta go. I think we’ve reached our place already.”_

“Send over lots of pictures!” said Aranea.

The call ended.

She sighed. “I think I’m experiencing empty nest syndrome already. How’s that even possible?”

“We’ll find a way to see him again,” said Ignis, giving her a reassuring peck on the head. “For now, let’s have breakfast.”

* * *

“Why is it so important for you to have your own place?”

She carefully chewed on her food, mulling over her answer. Ignis must’ve noticed, how she'd never bothered unpacking her clothes into the drawers even though she was at liberty to do so. Instead she chose to live out of her suitcase, just as she did two months ago. Those were the days of hopping between roach motels, eating pre-packaged food because they were the cheaper alternative, and enduring the long, trudging tedium of road travel. And when her savings dried up, she’d spent several nights in her car, using the gas station toilet to freshen up.

This rough-and-tumble lifestyle may seem romantic and look good in music videos, but more often than not she'd wished for air-conditioning, fresh laundry and clean sheets; and slept with one eye open for muggers and stray daemons.

“Because I’ve been homeless before. That experience sucked.”

Ignis stopped whatever he was doing. He carefully set down his mug, turning his gaze squarely onto her. He was all ears. She’d never talked about this - the aftermath of her divorce...although he could speculate what it was like. She was wary of kindness, shying away from intimacy...all the while brushing it off as something stupid and frivolous. There was still a part of her that was like a wounded animal, and Ignis cursed the day Ardyn had damaged her to that extent.

“My crew pooled whatever meagre resources they had to help me out, and it did help - for a bit. Biggs and Wedge offered their place for me to stay, but...well, I had to say no. I was a wreck. I was in no shape to be around people, and I needed to figure things out on my own. I can’t do that when everyone’s busy bein’ sorry for me. I don’t need sorry. I needed a plan.”

“Did you find it?”

“You guys found me, actually,” she said with a sheepish laugh. “Frankly I was embarrassed when I saw you again. The...stuff that I did to you. I would’ve felt better if you’d yelled at me-”

“Stop. Say no more of that. What’s done is done.”

“I keep thinkin’ that anytime the rug’s gonna be pulled out from under me...y’know? So I gotta leave before things get too good.”  

“And now? Have I given you any reason to leave?”

She shook her head. She couldn’t explain to him why she was feeling what she was feeling. That deep, visceral fear gripping her the moment she realized she’d fallen for him. It wasn’t normal - she knew that much. Who leaves when they’re in love? Probably those who thinks they’ve got nothing left to lose.

But Ignis had already staked his claim on this relationship from the get-go, hasn’t he? On Julian, on her, on the times he’d helped her out. She knew from the fleeting glances he’s been giving her that he would do almost anything for her and their son. Love was a currency he used most frugally, and once he spends it, he goes all out. Trust was also another very important aspect to him, and yet she’d already broken it so many times. Why is this idiot still here?! Is he really that much of a masochist? Addicted to the pain of disappointment? What’s he getting out of all this?

Once again she found herself remembering that he wasn’t Ardyn. They both don’t operate on the same level. And yet…

And yet...

She felt his hand sliding up to hers, lacing their fingers together. She’d actually jumped at the contact. “You’ve gone off somewhere in your head again,” he murmured, bringing her knuckles close to his mouth. “Sometimes I’m afraid that it is a place I cannot follow.”

“If you did, then it’s gonna be one helluva ride,” she said jokingly.

He nodded, although his face remained solemn, a deep concern swimming in his eyes which she’d begun to hate.  

_Tell me all your secrets, love._

She wanted to, but…

...she’s really, really afraid.

* * *

**Next episode: What happens when all the feels are in place.**


	23. Thinking Woman’s Crumpet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea and Iggy gets frisky at the most unlikely place. The Unsmiling Duke challenge makes a comeback; and Iggy proves how adept he is at negotiating.

One couldn’t possibly be curious about exploring staff pantries, but Aranea needed to munch, and Ignis had told her that she could find something there.

She regarded the note taped to the fridge door. 

 

_ For the last time, you greedy fucks: _

_ HANDS OFF MY FUCKING PUDDING! _

_ -Gladys- _

 

She opened the fridge, and sure enough, there was a pudding with a garish pink sticky note that said ‘GLADYS - DO NOT TOUCH!’

Snickering quietly to herself, she took it, pasted the sticky note on what seemed like a cling-wrapped bratwurst sandwich, then peeled off the pudding’s plastic cover top, inhaling its rich, satisfying aroma of caramel and custard. This was definitely good stuff - none of that cheapo shit you’d get at 7-Eleven. 

She spooned some into her mouth, making a satisfied sound as the pudding’s sweetness melted on her tongue.

“Thank you, Gladys,” she hummed, nudging the fridge door closed with her foot.

* * *

 

Steel clashed against steel. 

The recruit grunted, staggering backwards as the power of Ignis’s attacks still reverberated within her bones. Her rib still smarted from his punch. She’d thought it was a joke when the Royal Advisor asked her to spar with him. She’d barely mastered the fundamentals, and even dozed off during the theory lessons. The Marshal had lectured on the importance of being battle-ready, and now she understood why. 

She was about to die, and no one was going to know about it.

He was fast - too fast. And methodical. He seemed to be able to read her moves and deflected her attacks with a series of parries that was almost languid, as if this duel mildly amused him but he was getting bored fast. She was hardly a match for him, and yet he’d kept insisting on round after round, beckoning imperiously towards her everytime she dropped her weapons and gritting out: “Again.” 

Ignis pressed his advantage, sensing her fear and hesitation. He twirled his daggers, the blades making a swishing sound as it cuts the very atoms of the air. Sunlight glinted off the sharp edges and reflected against the grim line of his mouth. He narrowed his eyes at her. He was probably thinking of the best way to end her. 

But then his gaze shifted elsewhere.

Someone had come to witness their fight. 

The recruit lunged forward, seizing on his momentary distraction. Sometimes a moment was all it needed to be the decisive end.

Her world suddenly spun. He’d dropped down and swiped her legs out from under her. She fell onto the floor gracelessly, breath knocked out and her head still trying to figure out which way was up. 

He levered his dagger against the recruit’s throat. 

She was dead.

“Do you yield?” he said softly.

She didn’t even think about it.  _ “Never.” _

To her surprise, he smiled. He withdrew and extended a hand out towards her. 

“You still have a long way to go,” he said as she dusted herself off. “With due diligence you will get there. Remember to never let your guard down. And for goodness’ sake stop telegraphing your movements.”

The recruit bowed. “Thank you, sir.”

“You are dismissed.”

The newcomer was inspecting a rack of weapons. He smiled at the sight of her braids swishing over her back. She was the reason he’d been walking around like a dazed fool these past few days. He’d found himself abandoning work at times, word processor blinking emptily on the monitor as he stared at his phone for a good ten minutes; smiling like a damned idiot, and tapping the screen every now and then before the screensaver kicks in. 

There’s an entire photo folder filled with images of just Julian and Aranea. Sometimes Ignis was in the shot, making it a perfect family portrait, sometimes it was him and Aranea - courtesy of Prompto, who’d seize every possible photo op of them together and then sent it over to Ignis. There was even a particularly good one where the two of them were laughing and the lighting and angle was  _ just _ right. The look in their eyes as they stared at each other were  _ perfect.  _

Silly Prompto had drawn heart shapes and loving emojis around them, along with the hashtag  _ OTP. _ Whatever the hell that meant should probably remain a mystery to Ignis and hopefully it shall continue to be so. He’d teasingly told Aranea that he was going to turn this picture into his wallpaper and she threatened to toss his phone into oncoming traffic.

Finally he had mementos of their relationship. What started out as a fleeting encounter had solidified into something much more. This must be what having a family really meant: storing favourite photo albums, planning for vacations, snickering at memories. Truth to be told, it really was no different from the times he’d spent with Noctis, Gladio and Prompto during their old road trip, and yet at the same time these two were light years apart. His commitment towards the Royal Crown was unlike his commitment towards Aranea. 

He would die for his king, but he would live for her and Julian.  

Looking at the boy’s photo now, zoomed in so that his face filled the screen, Ignis felt an incoming surge of emotion, so powerful that it hurt. He was proud of Julian, that much he could tell. It wasn’t hard to like him. The boy was smart, possessed a rock-solid tenacity only his mother could instill within, and the sheer level-headedness of someone who had endured far more difficult things than any of his peers. He still found it mind-boggling how so much alike they were, despite the fact that they’d only known each other for a few days. Blood will out. Perhaps there’s truth in that after all.

“Ragging a junior,” Aranea tut-tutted. “I didn’t think you’d sink so low.”

“She needed to understand that there’s no room for babying in the Crownsguard. Battles are meant to be dealt with swiftly and precisely. If she’s not ready, then she has no business being here.”

“Hypocrite. You baby Noct all the time, and I don’t see you say that shit to him.” She selected a training sword, testing its blade and hissed when it proved to be sharp. He pursed his lips at the pinprick of red blooming on her thumb.

“Who says I don’t?” He murmured, taking her hand and blotting her finger with the edge of his t-shirt. Her blood left a sanguine shade on the light grey material.

“Unsanitary.”

“You’ll live.”

“This your idea of me watchin’ you train? Kick the ass off of some greenhorn? Hardly entertaining.”

“Am I here for your entertainment?” 

She hefted out a lance, bouncing it in her hands as if testing its weight. He noted how she held it most expertly, as if this was something she was so used to doing that it was muscle memory. His instincts jangled. 

There was a swish of air, and he’d ducked just in time. She would’ve speared his head if he didn’t.

“Why don’t you take on someone more challenging?” he heard her say. 

He straightened up. Her stance never wavered. She held the lance steadily, still poised towards his face. He lifted a hand and batted it aside. The iron tip made a circling motion, only to return to its initial position. He followed the line of its handle with his eyes, letting it trail over her arms, and eventually to her gaze. There was a dangerous glint there which he found oddly exhilarating.

“You mean, yourself?” he asked. He batted again, just to test her. The tip rounded back to him, as if it was a compass needle, and he was the guiding point.  

Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins. Stars above, this woman will be the death of him and he’s  _ enjoying _ it.

“Ya think I was kidding when I said I’m good with a lance?”

“I cannot fight you, Aranea. My code forbids it.”

“What code is that?”

“As Crownsguards, we are compelled to protect civilians. Not harm them.”

“Even to protect yourself?”

“Do you seek to hurt me?”  

“What if I do?”

“Then I shall endeavour to subdue you the best way I can.”

“And how’re you plannin’ to do that?”

He tipped his head sideways, as if contemplating his response. She’d barely registered the rippling of his muscles when his right arm suddenly shot out, winding around the lance and pinning it against his body, angling it out of harm’s way. He’d effectively brought himself closer to her in the process. Normally a swift knee to the enemy’s solar plexus would follow up afterwards, but he skipped that step. His left hand cupped the back of her head instead, fingers intimately brushing against her neck, sending a flush of warmth up her cheeks. 

He stared down at her, and noted with smug pleasure at the widening of her eyes, pupils dilated; that soft intake of her breath, lips parting in hungry anticipation. 

“I shall start by stripping you of your defenses first,” he rumbled lowly. Oh, he knew all about voice pitching. People were driven by the primal switch of intonations - nevermind the context of the words. With the right tone, one could get anyone to do whatever they wanted. He’d discovered that a low purr, superseded by a nuzzling on her ear and neck would make Aranea amenable to whatever other suggestions he had - and they’re usually of the filthy nature. He really shouldn’t be surprised at how wanton she could be, but still - he was surprised. 

“I’ve several layers…” She swallowed hard. “Of protection.”

“Doesn’t matter. All I have to do is find a... _ vulnerable _ spot and...manipulate it.” He unwound his right arm, relieving the lance off her unresisting hands. It clattered noisily onto the floor, causing a slight frown to mar her features, momentarily pushing her out of her haze of lust. He was determined to bring her back to it, however, by placing his fingers over her mouth. Her breath filtered through, so warm and so pulsatingly alive. 

“Would you yield to me?” he whispered.

“You commanding me to?” she shot back. Her tongue darted out, wet and pink, its tip touching his middle digit. He stifled a groan. He wanted that tongue elsewhere very badly. 

“No,” he growled, removing his hand.  _ “You _ command  _ me.” _

He yanked her closer and ravaged her mouth. She tasted of pudding.

Her arms curled around his neck, clinging onto him because she couldn’t trust her legs to prop her up any longer. 

“Camera,” she’d managed to gasp out when she felt his hand fumbling for her breast. 

He had no blasted idea what she was talking about at first...but then when it finally registered, he stopped almost immediately, eyes zooming up to that small inconspicuous thing attached to the ceiling. No, it wouldn’t do for anyone to witness the amorous adventures of the Royal Advisor. He wouldn’t be able to tamp down the gossip for months. It’s already bad enough that he had to deal with Gladio’s various escapades - misplaced as they were.

“Didn’t peg you as someone who’d encourage voyeurism,” she said playfully. “Not that I’d care...but, well. Looks like we just gotta wait.”

He shot her a look of such smouldering intensity that it once again ignited an urgent heat within her body. Maybe Iris wasn’t kidding after all. Maybe he didn’t subject other women with the same kind of look that he was giving her now, and she was glad. She wanted to be selfish. She wanted to hoard this secret side of him all to herself. 

“Don’t you dare tell me to wait,” he said. He tugged at her wrist. “Come. I know just the place that could afford us some privacy.”

* * *

 

Noctis hesitated. There was a reflective panel installed onto the walls leading to the grand parlour, and he was now looking at his mirror image. He’d made considerable effort at shaving, and he already seemed presentable enough. It’s still too goddamned early in the morning, though. Shit. 

He raised his hands and gently slapped his cheeks in an attempt to rouse himself up. He really should just do this one thing, get it over and done with, and then he can get back to his office for a quick nap. 

He’d briefly contemplated on summoning Ignis and asking him to join them. But this wasn’t an official meeting, and Camelia herself had requested that they’d made it informal. Anyway, how hard can it be, right? It’s just a social call. With the First Secretary of Altissia. Oh, shit...why must she insist on seeing them in the morning?

He entered the room, and Camelia was with Lunafreya, already deep in conversation. He caught the words ‘honeymoon’ and ‘holiday’ and thought he sure as hell needed the latter, even though it was next to impossible. About the former, though…

“Your Highness,” said Camelia, getting to her feet. “On behalf of my people, please allow me to extend the greatest felicitations on your upcoming marriage.”

“Thank you,” said Noctis. They shook hands. “I hope your stay with us has been pleasant so far…?” he went on, motioning for her to sit. He settled down next to Lunafreya, unbuttoning his suit jacket in the process. 

“Yes, Lucian hospitality is still the finest. I’d enjoyed my stay here immensely. Before I leave, however, I would like to present to you an early wedding gift.” She motioned towards her assistant, who padded forth silently, bearing a sleek white box. He bowed before Noctis, murmuring ‘Your Majesties’ before placing the box onto the coffee table. 

Lunafreya opened it, revealing a set of liqueur glasses made of the finest crystal nestled between pillows of dark velvet. 

“Thank you, Madam Secretary,” said Noctis. “We appreciate the thought. I hope you will be attending the wedding…?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” 

_ Oh, yesss… _

“We shall definitely be looking forward to having you here again,” said Lunafreya

_ Oh, God...yesss… _

Noctis quirked his brow. He can’t possibly be so sleep-addled that he’s starting to hear things, can he? The voice seemed to be coming out from the very walls itself, muffled but still clear enough to make out every word.

_ Right there...oh, right there. Don’t you fucking move! Ohhh… _

He angled a glance towards Lunafreya and found her staring at him, a similar puzzled look on her face. She’d heard it too. 

Camelia sighed. “Forgive me. I realize that I’d wanted this meeting to be informal, but I find myself in a complete lost as to what we should be talking about. It’s been a long while since I’ve made any social calls with anyone.”

“Oh, no worries!” said Noctis brightly. He began to mentally go through various cue cards of conversation starters. Dammit, he’d been trained for this! Now he’s regretting not calling Ignis over. That man could certainly smooth over the flow of dialogue between all parties involved. He had complete dossiers of every visiting dignitary stored inside his head, and he could provide verbal cues as to what Noctis should be saying next. It was like have a human-shaped teleprompter.

“I mean, I hardly even-” Camelia began. A deep moan suddenly cut her off, sounding like the weighted suffering of an ancient ghost.

_ Oh, YESSSS! Fuck me just like that! _

“What was that I just heard?” she enquired suspiciously.

“Heard what?” Noctis squeaked. “I didn’t hear anything! Did you hear anything, Luna?” He didn’t even wait for his fiancée’s response. “Nope, there’s nothing.” Dammit. He was sure of it now. Someone’s fucking in the secret passages again. Only a handful few knew about them, and after last week’s debacle, he had a good guess that it’d be Gladio. 

He honestly couldn’t care less what his men did in private - as long as it was healthy, ethical and consensual - but he sometimes wished that Gladio could master the art of subtlety like Ignis did. The bodyguard acted like a tomcat in heat at times, bristling his fur and strutting into a bar as if he owned the establishment. Sure, he’d gotten a slew of admirers and far more notches on his bedpost than all of the boys combined. While he’d maintained an extensive résumé of satisfied partners, Prompto’s stuck on his vicious cycle of desiring unattainable women; and Ignis had his heart broken once and moped over it for years afterwards. 

“That’s funny. I’m pretty sure there was something just now,” said Camelia 

Noctis tried his best to maintain his plastic Miss Universe smile. “Probably somebody’s messing with the PA system again,” he managed. 

Camelia levered her finely-drawn brow towards him. Oh, there’s no fooling this woman. She’d probably seen and heard far more freakier things in Altissia, as the people there were well-known for their...freer expressions of amorous love.

“It’s either that, or the rats of Crown City have gotten rather frisky as of late,” she quipped.

_ Harder, dammit! Ohhhh….OHHHHH…!!! _

Displaying a sudden aptitude for speed even he didn’t know he possessed - especially so early in the morning, Noctis bounced to his feet so fast that it took both Camelia and Lunafreya by surprise. 

“Let’s go for a tour around the Citadel!” he said. “I know you’ve already had one of those, but I bet you haven’t seen the rooftop terrace garden yet. We could even have a quick brunch together. I’ll show you a side of the Citadel you’ve never witnessed before. What do you say?”

“And leave right before the grand finale? I daresay the show is starting to get rather interesting, don’t you think?” said Camelia. She issued him a rather hard stare, as if daring him to deny what was going on. But then he noticed the slight quirk at the corner of her lips. She was clearly enjoying his discomfort. Damn clever woman. Every single line of her stance now was broadcasted loudly to him. 

_ Young man, you know better than to resort to feigned idiocy here.  _

And Noctis suddenly couldn’t help but wonder what saucy shenanigans she’d been up to when she was much younger. Hell, she’s probably still doing it now. She seemed to be the right sort. 

He executed a rather elegant bow, silently thanking Ignis for subjecting him to seemingly endless torturous hours of courtly manners and etiquette. And dancing. He fucking hated dancing. Gladio had caught them practicing once and teased him for being the girl due to their height difference. 

“Be that as it may,” he said, “I believe a far more wholesome form of entertainment is called for...especially at this time of the morning. I couldn’t very well allow you to leave Crown City without a proper sendoff now, could I? We would’ve been poor hosts indeed if we did.”

Camelia broke into a smile. “It appears that I have been misled, then. I’ve yet to experience the full extent of Lucian hospitality.” She got to her feet. “Show me this rooftop garden, and I will tell you about a certain emissary whose fondness of - ah, exotic toys set our embassy on fire and nearly sparked a minor civil war.”  

* * *

“I should present you to the royal court.” 

Aranea paused in the act of straightening up her clothes. They’d both slumped down onto the floor with exhaustion, sweat still cooling off their skin. “You what now?”

“After Noct’s wedding, I shall formally introduce you to the royal court and let everyone know who the future Lady Scientia is.” His eyes fell upon her, looking at her so adoringly that it was almost heartbreaking. He reached over to run the back of his fingers on her cheek. “I think it is only fitting that I do that.”       

Realizing that her mouth was still open, she closed it, only to open it again to say rather glibly: “Well, shit.” 

“What’s the matter?”

“I won’t...I’m not changing my name.”

“You can be Lady Highwind, then. It is not an issue to me.”

“Y-yeah...but…” she burbled. “Present? Why do I suddenly feel like I’m meeting the future in-laws? Do I have to dress up nice and bring a fruit basket?” 

“It is a mere matter of formality. A courtesy call, if you will. Letting them know who you are never hurts-” 

“Fuck formality. Fuck those jackasses. You have every reason to do that because of who I  _ was. _ Admit it.”

“I don’t give a fig who you were. I’m only interested in who you are now.”

“This is...this is...I mean,  _ future  _ Lady…? Look, you’re venturing into deep stuff here. The next thing I know you’d be marching up to my dad and ask for my hand in marriage.” An internal movie of that scene played out in her mind, and she thought it was so ludicrous that she burst out laughing. 

“I would if you think I should.” He was being entirely serious.

“Don’t be stupid! He’d disowned me ages ago. What d’you  _ think  _ is gonna happen if you did that, huh? He’d give his blessing, weep joyous tears and we all hold hands and sing around the campfire? C’mon.”

“Noct’s marriage to Lady Lunafreya could very well be the first step towards peace. A bridge, if you will. We have to start somewhere, and-”

“You want to set a similar example by doing the same thing? King and Advisor, both paragons of hope and everlasting peace. Yeah, I’m not saying that it’s not gonna work, but maybe you’d have a much better chance if you did it with someone whose dad isn’t the goddamn Butcher of Tenebrae. Yeah. They call him that. You knew, didn’t you? Of course you did.”

“Was it you who burnt Tenebrae to the ground? No. Did you raise a hand against any of her people? No. Who was it that hurt Lady Lunafreya and scarred her for life? It most certainly wasn’t you. You are not your father, Aranea. You’ve proven that as much...with your name and your actions. And I understand the stigma that you bear...believe me, I do. You feel tainted by association. Maybe with me...we could change that somehow.” He reached out and took her hands, kissing them gently. And to think and he was so rough, so primal on her just moments ago - one hand braced against the wall while his other arm wrapped around her waist, holding her upright as he fucked her from behind. He was a mix of contradictions she was eager to explore all over again.

“The royal court is a nasty viper’s nest of gossip and intrigue. To tangle with them requires a certain amount of finesse...and ruthlessness. I’ve learned that the hard way.” He sighed, eyes looking faraway as he glimpsed on a particularly unpleasant memory. He looked at her again, and a smile quirked his lips. “Perhaps you are the much-needed change they need. I could use an abrasive outsider to shake things up.”

“So when shit hits the fan you can always blame me?”

“I daresay your proclivity for causing trouble has already become a household topic. It’s about time they meet the person behind those stories.” 

“The best thing about legends is that they never meet the person behind it.”

“Oh, I have. And she is every bit as fascinating within and without.  _ Especially  _ within. And without any clothes. I enjoy that part very much.”  

“Shuddup, you,” she grumbled, shoving him aside. He laughed.

* * *

 

There’d been rumours flying about the Citadel about Ignis Scientia being gravely ill. 

It started within the circle of admin assistants, when one of them returned from her meeting looking rather flustered. She’d received a text message from Ignis regarding her last report submission. But that wasn’t the worst part. 

“He...he said…’good job’,” said the poor girl, now being comforted by a circle of colleagues. Someone had even helpfully pushed a steaming mug of tea in her hands. Another had stopped short of putting a blanket around her.  

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, ain’t it?” said another girl. “He  _ never _ compliments my work, even after I’d run it through the spell check ten thousand times! At best,  _ at best,  _ mind you...all I get was a nod and that’s it.”

“But...but…that’s not it…” burbled the shocked and beleaguered girl. 

“He didn’t send you dick pics, did he?” another colleague piped in darkly. She was a newcomer to the department. “My last boss did that, and when I lodged a complaint, he laughed it off and said it was an accident. A week later I got fired!” 

“N-no! It’s nothing l-like that! He...he…”

Some of the girls crowded in, rubbing her shoulders and making soothing noises. 

“He what?”

The girl finally couldn’t take it. “He added an emoji!” she wailed.

* * *

 

“Emoji?” said a guard, brow knitted in perplexion.

“Yeah. The smiley face one,” said his partner in duty. “Believe me, it was quite a shock.” 

“Yeah, but....emoji? Hardly nothing to get excited over, isn’t it? I mean, everyone does it.”

“Not Scientia. You’ve read the staff memo he sometimes sends to everyone. Doesn’t exactly make for great bedtime reading. Somethin’s up. I can feel it in me water.”

“Your water ain’t exactly gonna pass any muster in any civil court, now...would it?” the first guard retorted. “In the water,” he added witheringly. “Next thing you know, you’re gonna bet on your granny panties and claim some stupid factual bullshit is actually true.” 

“You gotta admit that he’s looking quite different today.”

“New shirt? New suit, maybe…?”

“New face, more like. He actually looks happy. Smiling, even.”

“Ooh, Botox!” 

“Nooo, ya blockhead!” Would the Royal Advisor actually consider cosmetic enhancements? At his age? How old was he, anyway? Late 20’s, early 30’s?

“Rumour has it he’s got a lover now.”

“Can’t be Gentiana now, can it?” 

They both hurriedly stood to attention when the doors to the conference room opened. Ignis came out, followed by Iris, her team from the PR department, and the contractual party from an event management company. They were discussing the final settings for the  _ Lux Aeterna _ concert. Aranea was with them too, that mysterious ash blond woman with braids who was seen stalking the hallways of the Citadel of late. None of the staff were actually clear on her role there, but whispers were abound that she’s sleeping with a high-ranking member of the royal court. Probably that’s why she was granted a free pass to roam about the place unchecked. 

Aranea spotted the guards and gave them a most curious look. She sauntered nonchalantly towards them, and the guards straightened up even more, trying to seem like they’re working really, really hard at protecting a door and and the silver dustbin standing between them.

“That Unsmiling Duke Challenge,” she said to one of them. “How much is in the pot now?” 

The guards exchanged sideways glances. 

“C’mon, don’t act dumb. I know you’re both in it. Whoever can make your Royal Advisor laugh wins, right? As easy as that?”

“Ain’t easy, mi- ma’am. He  _ never _ laughs.”

“Not a challenge if it isn’t. So it’s purely cash term, yes?”

“Er. Yes?”

20,000 gil. That’s how much money was accumulated for almost a year. Usually rookie staff were suckered into placing bets because they haven’t received the full brunt of the Ignis Glare™ yet. It was only once they’d met the man that they realized their mistake. He was serious in the way that heart attacks and global economic meltdowns were serious. He made powerpoint slides saturated with factual findings, arguments, counter-arguments and colourful pie charts. You don’t mess with a man who knows his pie charts well. 

“Watch. And learn,” said Aranea. She walked up to Ignis, who was deep in conversation with Iris. She interrupted him mid-sentence, sliding a hand up the front of his shirt and leaning in close to him, whispering something in his ear. He drew back, giving her a puzzled look, and then laughed. 

He’d actually laughed. 

He threw his head back, opened his mouth, and  _ guffawed.  _ Coming from a man whose loudest sound he’d ever made was the crisp  _ clip-clop  _ of his wingtip dress shoes pounding the marble tiles of the hallway, or his voice raised slightly when he was irritated, this was bizarre. Everything else about him was a mix of carefully controlled power and poise. But this - this was something else entirely. It was almost as if the gates of the seventh dimension had opened up and spit out an alternate version of Ignis. 

Even Iris was staring at him in puzzlement, switching her gaze between him and Aranea, as if wordlessly asking what the hell was going on. 

He chortled, hiding his mouth behind a fist, even though a few shreds of titters managed to escape past. He laughed a bit more, his smile actually reaching his eyes and exposing his rows of even teeth. Iris had never seen so much of his teeth before. This was really getting weirder by the minute. She wondered if he was completely alright. 

He wiped away a tear and reached out to pat Aranea on the back. “That was a really good one.” 

“What are you guys on about?” Iris demanded, starting to feel annoyed. 

“Forgive me. That was rather rude of me,” said Ignis. “You were saying…?”

“No, c’mon,” Iris insisted. “You know I hate being excluded from a joke. What is it, Iggy?”

“Nothing,” Aranea interjected. “Just a pure load of nothing.”

As she sauntered past the guards, she glanced meaningfully at them, raising her hand and rubbing her thumb and forefinger together, as if indicating that a certain amount of cash was due.

* * *

 

Ignis didn’t have to wait long. He’d barely warmed up his seat when Aranea slunk into his office, looking smug like a cat who’d swallowed the cream. Even the way she shut the door was covert - as if there was a secret they wished to impart to each other and they didn’t want the rest of the world to find out yet.

“I should have known better than to leave my phone unattended with you around,” he said. 

“Pfft, relax. All I added was a stupid emoji. Didn’t think it’d cause such a shitstorm.”  

“And let it be stated for the record that I do not enjoy putting up a show in front of the staff,” he added tartly.

“Oh, c’mon! It’s for fun, and they deserve that much.  _ You _ haven’t even heard about the challenge until Gladio told you about it. And besides,” she sauntered over to his side of the desk, sliding away some paperwork before settling herself over the edge. “We’ve got ourselves some sweet, sweet payoff. Now, since I’ve set this up, the split should be 80-20.”

“Fifty-fifty. Because we’re partners. None of this would’ve worked without me.”

“70-30.”

_ “Fifty-fifty.” _

“60-40, and I’ll give you a handjob.”

“Fif-” He paused. “Only that?”

“In the middle of a board meeting?”

“No. Too risky. At least half of the ministry would be there.”

“Fine. 60-40, a blowjob at the privacy of your office, and Prompto will give you a lap dance.”

Ignis had a brief mental vision of Prompto giving him a lap dance and hurriedly consigned that film reel to the editing floor. 

“I’m starting to doubt the reliability of our partnership,” he said. 

She groaned. “Fine! Fifty-fifty! Sheesh!” Producing a wad of cash from her pocket, she counted out notes onto his waiting hand. “There. Happy?”

He took her wrist, pulling her over until she was seated on his lap. Her body was pressed flush against his, and he noted with satisfaction at the small gasp escaping her throat, followed by the telltale signs of arousal in her eyes. “Marginally so.”

“Sheesh, you’re a real tough customer. What else can make you stop bitchin’?”

“I can think of several ways,” he said, hand trailing suggestively over her waist. 

“Your door’s not locked, genius.”

“Only heightens the experience, don’t you think? The possibility of getting caught?”

“My, my...aren’t you a risk-taker today?”

“I only learned from the best.”

She leaned in even closer. “Nice doin’ work with you, Scientia,” she murmured, breath searing against his lips.

“It’s been a real pleasure, Highwind,” he husked back. 

They kissed. 

“By the way…”

“Hm?” 

“You’re 200 gil short,” he said. 

“I know,” she said, sticking her tongue out as she slipped away from him. “You’ll just have to find it on me later.”

* * *

 

**Next episode: Trouble in paradise...**


	24. The Indomitable Aranea Highwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Aranea revisits her old home and gets into an argument with Ignis later.

She senses his kiss on her mouth before she even felt it.

When Aranea opened her eyes, Ardyn stared back at her, warm amber eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiled. There was always this boyish charm about him that she loved; how his lips would quirk up into that roguish grin he’d manipulated so many times to get his way with her. And she’d let him, goddammit. She’d let him because she was so in love without knowing the reason why. He’d painted her dreams with saccharine promises and filled her nights with such hedonistic pleasures that - despite her gruff responses - she’d really believed it when he said that she was the woman for him.

“What took you so long?” she whispered, girly and breathless, voice carried away by the wind. Even then, he could still hear her.

“Good things come to those who wait, my dear,” he said, fingers tenderly tracing the curve of her jaw, trailing down to pinch her chin in a playful manner. He was gentle and loving at times, feral and rough when the occasion calls for it. Just the thought of him raking his teeth over her shoulder as he took her sent tremors of excitement down her spine.

“You sure as hell took your own sweet time,” she snapped.

“I know. Forgive me. I may have been...mislaid, somewhat.”

They were at their penthouse in Altissia, the master bedroom’s balcony opening up to a breathtaking vista of the waterfalls. Sometimes a cheeky wind would bring the spray from the splashing waters their way. She leaned over the parapet, and looked down. The usually bustling streets were devoid of a single soul.

“I can still bring you back to those days,” he said into her ear. He was close. He _felt_ close, as if he was right behind her. But still he seemed so far away. “I am glad.”

She shook her head. “Those days are gone.”

“Ah, but not _these.”_

She turned. “What do you-?” She stopped.

They were no longer at Altissia. She recognized, with stomach-dropping dread, the Imperial insignia, the rows and rows of MT troops lining up the courtyard, waiting to be activated. And looming in the shadows, barely highlighted by the spotlight, were the hulking forms of airships and heavier artillery.

They were back at the Gralean garrison.

“No,” she said, hating the tremulous fear in her voice. She’d made it out. All by herself. There’s no way in hell anyone’s gonna take her back. She took a step back, raising her arms as if defending herself from an invisible attacker.

She looked down in horror.

She was dressed in her old cadet uniform.

“Do you think they still serve those blood sausages at the mess hall?” Ardyn wondered. He let out a genteel shudder. “Nasty things they were. I don’t know how you people could stomach it.”

“The hell you playin’ at?” she snarled.

His response was to merely raise his brows and spread out his arms, as if indicating the painfully obvious. “Hail the prodigious daughter as she returns. All of this, just for you. Only if you say ‘yes’.”

“No.”

He waggled a finger playfully at her, making her feel like she was a mere child in need of chastisement.

“Not quite the answer I was looking for,” he said. He was smiling. She didn’t trust him when he’s smiling. She wouldn’t even trust him when he’s doing anything else.

“Maybe you’ve been looking at the wrong places, then.” She whirled around, eyes wildly looking for a possible exit. She could just make a run for it. She knew the place, inside out. All the nooks and crannies, all the convenient hiding places...

Ardyn let out a soft laugh, mocking her. “Dearest, haven’t you realized it by now? You can’t escape who you are.”

“I sure as hell can! I’ve done it before, I’d do it again!” She began to walk away, not wanting to listen to his gloating lecture on who he thinks she should be.

He stopped her, stepping out from the shadows. She turned the other way. And stopped. He was there as well. No matter where she looked, he was there.

He seized her head, hands gripping her in a vice-like hold. His face was mere inches away from hers.

“Don’t you see?” he hissed. “This is but a dream!”

She opened her eyes. Noct’s bedroom ceiling stared back at her, dappled by shards of light filtering in from outside. Ardyn’s voice still echoed in her ear, ominous and foreboding. She heard the steady breathing next to her and felt that reassuring weight of an arm draped over her waist. Ignis must’ve crawled into bed in the middle of the night and somehow managed not to wake her up.

She turned slightly, reaching out for her phone on the bed stand. It was 2 am, and there was a message from Julian. He’d wished her good night.

Ignis stirred, mumbled something in his sleep. His arm tightened around her, bringing himself closer. He tucked his chin into the crook of her shoulder, burying his nose into her hair. A sigh, almost of relief, escaped him...as if he was anxious of ever letting her go. As if he was afraid that he’d wake up and not find her next to him.

She set her phone down, settling herself for another round of sleep. Eventually her hand came up, fingertips caressing his forearm.

She stared up at the ceiling, making a game of guessing the shapes out of the shadows. But eventually the guesses got scarier and scarier until at one point she’d imagined Ardyn to be right there in the room with them. She stopped her game immediately.

Omens were for fishermen and superstitious morons. She was neither.

So why does she still get this increasing sense of dread?

* * *

 

Somebody bumped into her. That person whirled away, muttering a quick apology before scurrying off. Aranea took it as a sign to move along. Lestallum was steeped in memories for her. There wasn’t a single street corner that didn’t remind her of something.

She stepped out of the hustle and bustle into a much more quieter avenue. Here was already the residential district, a more upper-crust level if the fancy gilded gateways and grand villas looming beyond were of any indication.

She stopped at a particular gate number, eyeing the golden nameplate screwed to the wall.

_Izunia._

That thing needs to be removed immediately.

The guardhouse was empty, looking as if it’s been cleared out a long time ago. Ardyn must’ve fired the guard after he’d stopped looking after this place. The courtyard garden was still trim and well-kept. Some of the staff had stayed, obviously.

She pushed open the front door, and the first sight she was greeted with everytime she entered the house was the huge, ostentatious chandelier dangling from the ceiling. Ardyn never did anything in half-measures; and when it came to grandstanding, he had it in spades. Everything had to be showy, because people wanted to be told stories. It distracts them from that harsh, ugly thing called ‘reality’.

 _Mundus vult decipi -_ the world wants to be deceived.

She wondered if Ardyn chuckled smugly to himself, rubbing his hands together as he thought himself to be so damned clever for thinking that tagline up. It was then she realized that she hardly knew him at all - at least the parts of him that he’d so artfully hidden from her. And now he’d passed on that skill to her without her knowledge. She was his unwitting protegé, shaped her outlook of the world, and she hated him for it. Everything that he touched gets tainted and cursed.     

Her heels clicked over the marble tiles as she looked around, letting the essence of memory soak her. Twin grand staircases wound along the wall leading to the upper levels. There used to be a giant vase of flowers everyday on the circular table in the middle of the main hallway. Now the table was bare. She ran a finger over its varnished surface, and noted the imprint she’d left behind on the layer of dust. Bereft of a master, this place was slowly decaying. And to think that it can’t possibly be that long since she’d last been in here.

There were footsteps coming from the kitchen. An elderly man crept forth uncertainly, squinting at her through his glasses. He was almost bent over from arthritis.

“I’m sorry, miss...but you have the-” he began, but stopped when recognition flickered past his features. “Lady Aranea?” he whispered, as if afraid that she was a mirage and if he spoke too loud, she would disappear.

“Tobin,” she said warmly. The fact that he was still dressed in his butler uniform was heartbreaking. “I thought you’d already left, like the others.”

“Oh, I could never leave. Where would me and the missus go?”

They clasped hands. Tobin’s eyes raked over her face, trying to remember what was different about her. “It is really good to see you again. Have you come alone?” His voice suddenly took on a much more energized tone as he looked around hopefully. “Have you brought Julian with you?”

“No,” Aranea said apologetically. “He’s in Altissia, and he’ll be there awhile. I‘ll let him know that you asked about him. Maybe he could give you a call or something.”

Tobin’s face fell. “He can most certainly try, Lady A. But I’m afraid it’d be a futile task. The phone lines were already cut off, you see.”

“Cut off? Why?”

“Master Ardyn hasn’t been all too concerned with the upkeep of this place ever since he left. Truth is, he’s been letting staff go, and we were the last to know. We chose to stay because we’ve nowhere else to go. Out there, no one would hire us.”

Aranea pursed her lips in displeasure. Ardyn was never one to care for the small folk. They weren’t important enough in the grand scheme of things. Everywhere he went, he left a trail of destruction in his wake. That had always been his modus operandi.

Something was urging her to pay attention. Tobin had been caught by surprise with her visit, obviously...but at the same time he seemed agitated. She remembered the man as being calm and poised during his golden days of tenure within the household. Now as he spoke, he kept making furtive glances towards Ardyn’s study.

He was guilty of something.

“I’ll just look around first,” she said. “I miss this place.”

“I would’ve asked whether you’re staying for lunch, as it is customary, Lady A. But I’m afraid our larders have been poorly stocked of late.”

She smiled. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll be fine.”

If there was one thing she was glad of, Ardyn wasn’t one who kept trophies of animal heads mounted to the wall. It’s very unsportsman-like, according to him. Killing was easy. He’d rather prolong the suffering. It’s more fun that way.   

The doors to his study opened with a creak. The mustiness of unaired spaces assaulted her. She glared in distaste at the shelves of untouched leatherbound books. Oh, he’d read all of them no doubt, making a point to pore over unabridged versions of whatever washed-up philosophy cantankerous old men could think of. There were scaled models of airships, ancient mechanical soldiers and strange-looking contraptions - supposedly obsolete wonders from the former empire of Solheim. There was even a painting of himself hanging from the wall, smirking at her as if her mere existence amuses him.

Everything in here was an affrontery to her.

His desk was neat. Too neat, in fact. He’d clearly liberated it of whatever sensitive documents before leaving the place. Even the drawers were unlocked and empty, save for a few tarnished gil coins. The drinks cabinet were largely untouched. She’d imagined his fingers closing over the brandy bottle and pouring himself a drink at the end of each long day. She used to join him, once upon a time.

One of his prized possessions was the crystal diorama of the Six, put on display by the window so that the sun would shine through and make the most beautiful prismed patterns onto the floor. She was surprised he’d left them behind.

The moment she stared at the pieces, she knew something was wrong. Ifrit and Bahamut were missing, as evidenced by the clean circular spots on the cabinet surrounded by layers of dust. Someone had clearly absconded with it, possibly only recently.

She went upstairs to the master bedroom and started opening the wardrobes. Hers were practically empty - she’d cleaned them out, obviously. Ardyn’s clothes were largely intact, but suspicion nagged and she bent over to check the collection of wristwatches and jewel-encrusted cufflinks which he never wore. They were usually gifts from the Emperor and visiting dignitaries. She nodded at what she saw.

She went to Julian’s room next, pausing only to take note of the cartoon decals stuck to his door and the glow-in-the-dark stars and moon adorning his wall. She honestly doubted anyone would ever grow out of glow-in-the-dark stickers. There was a poster of Justice Monsters Five and she immediately calmed down. After being within the pompous confines of Ardyn’s study, being in here soothed her somewhat.

All of his things were there, including his collection of plush toys. She picked up a fluffy owl and hugged it close to her, realizing just how much she was person-sick. Being homesick meant missing a place terribly. Person-sick worked the exact same way.

There was an indentation on the edge of his bed, much too large to be made by a child. Someone - a certain nostalgic someone - who, despite their arthritic knees, must’ve made their way all the way up here and sat on the bed. Just basking within the waves of fond memories like what she was doing right now.

Because sometimes, when everything else is gone, all you had were the memories.    

Now that she’d started looking, she began to notice further signs of missing things around the house. The silverware and gilded statuettes for one. She was glad. She’d never liked them before. It was fun, in a way. Like the game where two similar pictures were juxtaposed next to each other and you’re supposed to spot the difference.

She reached the kitchen just in time to hear the hushed conversation between Tobin and his wife: “-she’s going to find out! She’ll find out and throw us to the streets! Oh, I knew I shouldn’t have taken-”

“Taken what, Tobin?” For a man with ravaged joints, he sure as hell could still jump a mile up in the air when he heard her voice.

“Lady A!” Tobin gasped. “I - er - I - we - the-”

“This, that, how, when, why?” Aranea finished cheerfully. “Hello, Ivy. Long time no see.”

Ivy turned towards her, causing her smile to falter tremendously. The woman’s sightless gaze were glazed over by a cloudy white sheen. What colour were her eyes before this? Her voice, once so warm and comforting, were now feeble and cracked. And yet despite it all, she smiled. “Lady A! How nice to hear you again! You are well, I hope?”

Aranea had sat with her and taken her hands before she’d finished speaking. “I’m good. What happened to you?”

“It’s her illness!” Tobin all but sobbed. “Finally taken a toll on her. Doctor says there’s nothing more we can do for her eyes. Things are getting more expensive these days! What with Master Ardyn stopped paying our salaries since six months ago, we had to make do! We couldn’t afford the usual treatment, so I had to sell some of the Master’s things! I know it is unbecoming of me, Lady A! I’ve broken the very rule us butlers were meant to stand for! Punish me, if you will...but please...have mercy on my wife! There’s a high possibility she might lose her legs too!”

“Why? What’s wrong with-” A quick glance already told her everything she needed to know. Ivy’s feet were covered with weeping sores, carefully bandaged over by Tobin. But it was obvious that they’re not healing, and they’re starting to fester.

Aranea’s scowl deepened. Ardyn had no right, _no right_ at all to treat these two like this. They had been in service the longest, years before he’d even married Aranea. And while everyone left, they’d _stayed._ They had loved Julian like their own son, doting over him as he was the only true joy that ever existed in their lives. It was Ivy who stayed up all night taking care of him when he was sick, when Aranea was too exhausted to do so. And Julian loved her and Tobin in return, seeing them both as a second set of parents.

Her gaze alighted on the rows of bouquets in plastic bottle containers arranged on the counter. They were in varying degrees of decay, in a fixed pattern of variety - lavender, lilies, and four more types she couldn’t name. The most recent one was the roses.

She looked around the kitchen, a once-bustling space that housed ten cooks and prepared grand feasts fit for a king. Now it was a cavernous shell of its former glory, haunted by spiders, dust and echoes of the living.   

“Why didn’t you write to Ardyn?” she asked. “Or to me? I would’ve definitely come over sooner and did something about this had I’d known.”

“I couldn’t very well write to the Master, Lady A! That man is already terrifying as it is. He’d see us a burden and ignore us. As for you, well...I’ve no idea where you were. Not after the time-” Tobin stopped himself almost immediately, as if speaking about the incident was blasphemous. But she knew perfectly well what he was talking about.

The time Ardyn physically kicked her out of the house.

“Despicable, what he did, m’lady!” Ivy said, voice suddenly dripping with vehemence. “Throwing a woman out and then taking away her son. That man has no honour whatsoever!”

Yes, he truly lacked that in great abundance.

“Well, I got Julian back, and that’s all that matters,” said Aranea. “And I’m the new master now. This place is mine.”

Tobin’s eyes lit up, and he made a sound of jubilation.

“And I’m selling it off,” she went on, causing his smile to vanish.

“Oh,” he said. “But then, where shall we go?” Suddenly feeling he’d committed trespass by questioning his master’s decision, he quickly added: “I fully respect your choice, Lady A. It’s just that Ivy needs constant care and she has to go to the hospital every week.”

“And she will!” Aranea said, with hardness in her tone that was misconstrued. She regretted seeing the old man shrink away from her. These two had nothing to fear where she was concerned. She cared for the people who worked under her. That had been her base tenet and it’s been unbroken since the day she’d formed it. Ignis had been right: she inspired allegiance unlike other callous leaders who felt it easier to buy them. She would’ve made a formidable army commander indeed, for her men would fight out of staunch loyalty instead of fear and greed.

She leaned back and drummed her fingers onto the table. What would Ignis have done? Her initial plan had been to sell off the house and use a portion of that money as downpayment for a new one in Insomnia. Considering the property value of the area, she was pretty sure she could get a good price out of it. The exorbitant monthly upkeep fees just to maintain this place had been the main motivating factor for her to let it go.

Having Tobin and Ivy here, however, changed the game. They should be retired by now, living in the countryside with a comfortable pension. Ivy would require round-the-clock care, and that meant having a live-in nurse. They shouldn’t ever have to worry about scrimping to save whatever meager savings they had, nor when - if ever - they’d be presented with a token of appreciation for their services by the grand Master Ardyn himself.  

“How much did you get for the Ifrit and Bahamut crystal pieces? Just curious,” she said.

“T-twenty thousand, m’lady.”

“20k for _both_ of ‘em?” They’re actually worth five times over. That’s another thing she was worried about. Unscrupulous pawn brokers screwing Tobin over just because he was an old man who didn’t know the true value of the pieces he’s selling off. All he cared about was getting money for his wife’s medical treatment. The broker probably smelt the desperation off him and _pounced._

“Did you touch any of the wine collection?” she asked.

“Wine?” Tobin asked back, as if suddenly remembering that the house had one. “No.”

“Should’ve sold those things off first. They’re worth much more than any of the stuff you’ve sold _combined.”_ Come to think of it: she should probably have a looksee herself. There’s probably some ultra rare vintage she could use as a wedding gift for Noctis and Lunafreya. “Actually, y’know what? Lemme do it. I’ll get someone who’ll appraise everything and find buyers for ‘em.” At a commission, of course...but still - after shaving a slice off the top and maybe a bit at the bottom, she was sure there’s plenty enough left. “You keep all the money. Afterwards I want you two to pack up, because I’ll be finding another place for you. This house really have to go. Too many…” she flapped a hand, trying to think of a better word, before finally settling on one with a sigh: “Memories.”

“Then,” Tobin said hesitantly, “you’re not angry with me, Lady A?”

“Oh, I’m angry, alright. Furious, in fact. But not at you. I did say I’m takin’ care of you two, didn’t I? Now - do we have an axe somewhere?”

The garden shed door had expanded due to the weather, but it gave way with two firm blows. Aranea stumbled in, wincing as she rubbed her shoulder. She rooted around amongst the stacks of musty fertilizer and rusting garden equipment, almost tripping over a rogue hose in process.

The axe was heavy, with its handle long enough to reach her waist. She purposefully strode back into the house, dragging the cumbersome thing and ignoring Tobin’s curious stare. The axe left ugly score marks on the vintage cherry wood flooring but she really didn’t care. She disappeared into Ardyn’s study.

Tobin cautiously peeked through the doorway. Afterwards, he animatedly recalled what he saw to Ivy, mimicking Lady A’s actions as best as he could. “Lady A, she stood before Master Ardyn’s portrait, axe hefted up in her hands. And then she just started hacking at it! Whack! Whack! Whack! Cut cleanly right into the canvas and just kept going. Screamed like the bloody hellfire was possessing her. I’m tellin’ ya, I could barely recognize the Master’s face by the time she was done with him. Ooh, Ivy. You should’ve seen the look in her eyes. She seemed ready to murder anyone. She just stepped out of the study, gave me a right fright when she just glared at me. Curdled my blood right up, she did. She pointed at the painting and said, she said: ‘That thing stays there. No matter what.’ When I looked, she’d left the axe embedded so deeply into the Master’s head that I couldn’t get it out...and believe me, I’ve tried. Whatever that was, whatever she was thinking, it came from a place of deep hurt. Ooh...I wouldn’t want to be in the Master’s shoes if she’d ever meet him face-to-face.”

* * *

 

“He brings her flowers everyday. Without fail. Puts ‘em in front of her so that she could smell and touch ‘em. Lavenders on Mondays, roses on Tuesdays, and I forgot about the other days. It’s very...well, you should see how dedicated he is to her. She’s really one of the luckiest girls ever.”

“I’d bring flowers to you everyday if that is what you wish,” said Ignis.

“C’mon, do I look like a flowers type to you? Pfft!” said Aranea, rolling her eyes. “No. My point is it’s so nauseatingly sweet that I actually like it. It’s like relationship goals or somethin’ y’know?”

“Yes, I know,” he smiled warmly, linking fingers with hers and then proceeded to lightly brush his lips over her knuckles. “I am very proud of you.”

“Why?”

“You care for those who have been forgotten. You choose to do so because it is the right thing to do.”

“I did it because I’ve been there before. I know what it’s like.”

“And Ardyn’s the poorer man because of that. He’s clearly underestimated you.”  

“I gave Tobin some money - just enough to get them by for a coupla weeks. I even started asking around for houses up for sale. Burned a lot of cash in the process. Luckily my alimony’s coming in next week. Ardyn’s a lot poorer, of course. He’ll be paying for a house that’s not even his. Hah. I really should get divorced more often. Turn it into a lucrative business venture or somethin’.”

“I know you meant it in jest, but I do wish that you don’t joke about these things, love.”

“What...divorce? Because you’d never even once consider it?”

“No, I don’t believe I would.”

“Even when things get so bad that it’s the only option?”

“There’s _always_ choices. Painful and difficult as they may be. I wouldn’t be involved with someone if I didn’t think that there’s ways to mend the relationship.”

“I used to think that it wouldn’t happen to me. Hell, I didn’t even think I’d ever settle down. Period. But it happened. People change. Things change.”

“Tobin and Ivy didn’t. He had the choice of leaving her to her fate, but he didn’t. He cared for her, despite the hardships he had to endure. You said it yourself. They have something others could only dream of.”

“Yeah, well...he’s...something else. He’s an entirely different species all by himself,” she said. She tried to sound airy, but he wasn’t entirely convinced.

“True love doesn’t only exist in fairytales, Aranea. They are not as mythical as you may think. Admittedly it takes more than magic dust to make things work, but it does happen with the right amount of dedication and mutual respect.”

“Wrong. True love means having someone willing enough to clean up after cooking. And since you’ve already done the cooking, I’ll do the washing.” She got up and gathered their dishes, bending over to give him a quick kiss before disappearing into the kitchen.  

Ignis watched her go, a silly smile still on his lips. He felt like he could really do this. He could actually see them living together, laughing and chatting over dinner, and then him tucking Julian into bed afterwards. Ignis would later join Aranea for wine and chocolates, where they’ll be talking for a bit and make love some time after, trying their damnest to be quiet. It was a far-off vision that he wanted so much to be real that it hurts.

He got up and went to the kitchen, where he leaned at the doorway and silently watched as she did the dishes.

“I love you, Aranea.”

She immediately stopped, staring at the wall as if trying to be sure that she heard him right. She let out a heavy sigh, a noticeable slump on her shoulders when she hung her head, as if those very words wore her out. She spared him the barest of glances as she said: “So what?”

“So what?” he echoed in disbelief, wondering if she truly was stone-cold hearted. “I love you. I want to be with you. I want us to build a life together.”

“That’s _not_ life!” she snapped over her shoulder. She turned off the faucet and yanked at the kitchen towel as if it had done her personal harm. She glared at him as she dried her hands. “What’s next, huh? You hit me with another fucking prenup just to make sure I stay in line? Is that it?”

He was truly and utterly perplexed by now. “Prenu-?! What on _earth_ are you talking about?” How could those simple three words transform her into this spitting, raging thing?

“I’m not gonna let anyone put me back into another cage ever again!”

“I’m not putting you in a cage! I want to love you!”

“That’s the same goddamn thing!” she shouted. “Things are...things are going so _well,_ and you had to come along and spoil it!”

“How can confessing something like this spoil anything?”

“Just because we hung out, had sex, giggled around a bit, and now you think you can _own_ me? God, that is so _typical!”_ She emphasized her point by viciously tossing the towel onto the kitchen countertop. It didn’t have such a dramatic effect compared to...say, throwing a wine glass against the wall, but of course given the circumstances, that gesture would have to do.  

Ignis was starting to feel like he’d fallen into some warped reality. Aranea wasn’t making any sense, and her sudden shift into Hyde mode made him wonder if she’d actually understood what he was saying to her. “I do not even begin to _imagine_ that I could own you, much less make you do anything that you do not want. Where is this coming from? It’s almost as if you’ve developed a hair-trigger explosion everytime someone so much as _tries_ to love you. Why? Do you really reject the notion of romance entirely?”

“Of _course_ I do! ‘I love you, be mine’. ‘Stay with me forever’. ‘I’m yours till the end of time’. The same _bullshit_ phony line, over and over again. People are so...so _duped_ into believing that they should belong to someone in order to be happy. Well, _that’s not true!”_

“Is that it? You want to be alone now? Huh? What about Julian? Does he want the same thing?”

“Gah, I _knew_ you’d play the Julian card on me!” she snarled, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Listen, mister...I’ve pretty much raised him on my own all these years, so I’m pretty sure I can keep on doing that!”

“That is fine and all. But again I repeat myself: is that what he really wants? Is that what he _needs?_ I do believe that I have fair say on this matter as well.”

“Wants, needs...they’re all the same thing!”

“No, they’re not,” he countered firmly. “Need supersedes want. It is something you cannot live without. Just like how I don’t want you. I need you.”

“Oh, God. Don’t get sappy on me...”

“I don’t know what twisted idea of love Ardyn has put inside your head, but I can assure you that this is not it! I’ve seen how you look when you talk about Tobin and Ivy. You’re fascinated by the idea of romance, and yet you are repulsed by it. Every smidgen of a chance where you think you _could_ be happy, you would sabotage it...thinking that something this good couldn’t possibly happen to you. Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Aranea! You say you don’t want to be caged? That’s your cage right there, and you’ve built it yourself. You don’t need my help to do it!”

He saw and heard it: that wounded look and the sharp intake of breath. He knew he’d driven his point home, but it was a bitter victory. He’d hurt her, and he hated himself a million times over for it.

“So now you think you could pinpoint exactly what is wrong with me?” she asked, a frosty undertone creeping into her voice as she glared at him.

“Oh, come on. You had one _terrible_ experience and suddenly you develop this skewed outlook towards the entire male species. Would you really have the same loathing towards Prompto as you have towards Ardyn?”

There was a loud thump. Aranea had slammed her fist onto the kitchen countertop. She’d gone beyond rage and reasoning, and Ignis knew that whatever she had to say next would be the end of them.

“This isn’t some sappy romantic comedy! There’s no farcical meet cute! There’s no token Gay Best Friend where we giggle together over appletinis and talk about how I should ‘get back onto the saddle’! I wasn’t just thrown off the saddle. I was dragged under the bus, pancaked over the highway and left for dead. You could see vultures picking over my remains afterwards and even then, _even then,_ that’s not enough. That’s my reality. That’s what I have to live with. Every. Single. Day. So I’ve a love-hate idea about romance? Yeah, sure I do. Who doesn’t? But considering the other _mountain_ of problems I’m in, me being a - as you’ve tacitly suggested - a testicle-bashing shrew is the _least of it!_ So why don’t you take you stupid-ass psychology bullshit, and your so-called situational analysis, and just get the hell out? Because really, you spilling your guts to me right now is just plain pathetic.”

Something hardened behind Ignis’s eyes. His mouth was a thin pressed line as he marched away to retrieve his suit jacket. He made an exaggerated move as he buttoned up the front while still glaring at the general direction of the kitchen. Aranea waited, fists balled up on the counter, steeling herself for the time he’d return for round two. But round two never came. He left, with only the pointed click of the front door punctuating his departure.  

Faced once more by the deathly silence of the apartment, Aranea went to the living room and collapsed onto the couch, covering her face with her hands. But she didn’t cry, though. She was too busy convincing herself that she was the worst example of a human being in the entire universe.

His silence had spoken volumes.

And that made her feel even more shittier than ever.

* * *

 

He hadn’t called nor texted since then. It’s already been two days. She found herself staring at the the last message he’d sent her: _I’ll be there in ten minutes._ They’d been talking about dinner, and a few hours later they were arguing. All over their own stupidity.

Aranea realized just how wrong she was in this. Ignis rarely spills his feelings to people, and to have her think less of him because of it, going so far as to belittle him, it hurts him a lot.

She pressed the ‘Reply’ button, and a new message window popped up, cursor blinking as it waited for her input. Her thumb was already poised over the letter S, a precedent to the letters O, R, R, Y that follows after. Such a simple word, and yet the hardest to say.

She’d briefly considered sending over an emoji, but then realized just how juvenile that would make her. It would seem as if she was trivializing the situation, not even bothering to deign herself to write out a proper message. Ignis had made concentrated attempts to build bridges towards her, and she’d burnt them all down. Honestly, what was wrong with her? Was she really so messed up that she can’t see what’s there right in front of her? She dispenses brutal honesty even when people won’t appreciate it; and yet when someone else does the same to her, she’d get all hissy and defensive about it.

Wow.

That’s _way_ mature, Aranea.

She spent a good fifteen minutes in her car, just trying to think of the right thing to say. A potential client had insisted on meeting her at Galdin Quay, and their appointment was due soon...and yet she was still agonizing over a text message like a stupid lovestruck girl.

Eventually, she made her way to the Mother of Pearl. The waiter ushered her to a private dining area, totally closed off from the other restaurant patrons. So far she was the only one who’s arrived.  

She took a seat, but then immediately got up. She began to pace about restlessly, eyes still glued to her phone. Ignis’s number was displayed on the screen. All it takes was for her to press the right button and he’ll pick up soon enough. He was always quick to answer whenever she called...unless if he was in a meeting.

_I’m sorry I was such an ass._

_I’m such a jerk._

_I love you too._

_…_

_…_

_Please come back._

Suddenly she felt a finger graze her cheek from behind, followed by a voice that made her blood run cold: “Boo.”

She whirled around, already dreading what she was about to see.

Ardyn smiled at her. “How do you do, my dear?”

* * *

 

**Next episode: Ardyn’s here. Nothing good can ever come out of this...**


	25. Epoch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ardyn issues an ultimatum, Ignis is inept to matters of his own heart, and Gladio falls in love with a baby coeurl.

“You,” Aranea growled, fingers already curling up into claws.

“Me,” Ardyn agreed pleasantly. 

Realizing that this was a setup, she began to gather her things.

“Oh, please don’t go just yet. We’ve only just gotten ourselves reacquainted!” 

“This is what you’ve reduced yourself to? Getting someone else to summon me on your behalf?” she snapped. The woman who’d called her had claimed that she was a personal assistant. Aranea should’ve smelled a trap by then. Usually clients came to her direct, and they’d share mutual acquaintances. She’d never even heard of the company the woman had mentioned. “Play your games elsewhere! I’m done with you!”

“I couldn’t very well call you myself. You would’ve hung up before I could even say anything!”

“There’s nothing left for us to say to each other!” she said, voice rising up several notches higher. She now knew the reason Ardyn had picked this spot. With privacy assured, she could scream and shout all she wants and none of the other patrons would hear her. Which was starting to worry her somehow. Exactly what was he planning to do with her?

He held his hands up, palm outwards in a placating gesture. “There’s no point in starting a dialogue with hostilities. So why don’t we take simple steps and begin by sitting?” He pulled out a chair, and motioned towards it. 

Aranea crossed her arms across her chest, stubbornly jutting her chin out. “No.”

“Suit yourself.” He sat down, leaning backwards so that it was easier look at her. “Would you at least dine with me? This  _ is _ supposed to be a working lunch.” 

_ “No.” _

“Have you received my gift from your lawyer? I hope you find it satisfactory.”

“I wouldn’t know. I threw it out the window.”

“You threw it-?” A genuine look of puzzlement crossed his face, his eyes searching hers as if discerning whether or not she was joking. “Did you really?” 

“I imagined it was you. I was pretty high up at that time.” 

Ardyn suddenly laughed, a deep rumbling chuckle reverberating out of his throat before expanding it to a robust display of mirth. Never before had she met a man who seemed delighted that he’d just wasted millions of gil. “Ah, yes. Now I remember why I like you.”

“‘Coz of my charmin’ good looks?” she snarled. 

He made a show of considering this. “Well, yes. That too. Oh, I do so wish that you’d sit  _ down,  _ my dear. It’s getting harder to talk to you like this.”

“Then get to the point. I see your lips flappin’ but they’re still saying nothing.”   

“How is the Royal Advisor? Well, I hope?”

The mere mention of Ignis had brought a deep pang within her. She pushed it aside, fighting to maintain her expression. Ardyn’s fishing for cracks, and if he finds it, he’ll go for the kill. “He’s alright.”

“He seems like a very fine gentleman. It looks as if you’ve gotten yourself an upgrade. Didn’t take long for you to find a new bedwarmer, obviously. Or did you fall into his?”

“Why would  _ you _ care anyway? It’s not like it matters anymore. Or is this your way of sayin’ that you’re jealous?” 

“Perhaps I am. If I say that, what would you have done?”

“Hah, nothing. Probably call you out on your bullshit, but that’s it. You’re not capable of caring for anything or anyone beyond yourself. I should’ve stopped bothering myself about you  _ ages  _ ago.”

“But you didn’t, because you did it out of the kindness of your heart.”

“Don’t talk to me about kindness. You won’t even know what that is.”

“At the very least I project no illusions about what I really am. I wish the same could be said about you.” 

“Wow. And that makes you  _ so  _ much better than me. Do you want a sticker now? Or some extra dessert?” 

“Well, I  _ was  _ about to order some...until you said that you won’t be dining with me. And it wouldn’t be proper now, would it? Me eating by myself?” 

She leaned over, very slowly. Not once she broke eye contact. “Go ahead,” she gritted out. “Enjoy yourself.” 

And she turned around to leave. She really should’ve done that: walk away and never look back. But Ardyn was so good... _ so good  _ at reeling her in that she wondered how come she’d never learnt her lesson even after all these years.

“I heard that you’re selling off our Lestallum home. Such a shame, really. I quite liked that one.” 

A fresh wave of righteous fury ignited within her. And it was twofold this time. She really couldn’t decide which one she was angriest at the most, so she attacked both. 

Ardyn found himself being yanked forward in his chair. She’d grabbed him by the front of his coat, face inches away from him, a snarl on her lips and a fearsome intensity in her eyes that burned right into his. He found it exhilarating - seeing this side of her. She was wild, feral, and hungry. Always hungry. Always yearning for something that she knew would never be hers. His first impulse had always been to subdue her, as he was wont to do towards everyone else. But she was special. He actually  _ liked  _ her like this. She’s much more fun this way. 

“Tobin and Ivy. You’ve  _ abandoned _ them. What the hell’s wrong with you? Ivy’s very sick and Tobin had to sell off some of the things in the house just to make ends meet. Why’d you stop paying ‘em? They’ve been working for you far longer than any of the other staff, and this is how you treat them?” 

“I can’t very well keep paying for broken tools now, can I?”

“Tools?” she echoed, fingers tightening around his coat. He could hear the strain of fabric, and if she’d ended up ripping his clothes, he wouldn’t mind. Suddenly he felt compelled to touch her again.  _ “Tools?!  _ That’s how you really see ‘em? Must be real easy to live in your world where everybody else is sub-human except for you.” 

“And you, my dear.” His fingers had crawled up to slowly grip her hands, and she’d been too angry to notice. It wasn’t until he pried them off him, caressing her skin in process that she’d realized what he’d done. She yanked herself off as if she’d been electrocuted, looking utterly disgusted.  

“Oh, don’t act so shocked now. We’ve done far worse things to each other before,” he smirked. “You really are looking better than ever. Rubbing shoulders with royalty must’ve done you a lot of good. And to think that you’d shunned that kind of life before. How is it now? Dining on honeyed kingatrice tongue every night? Sipping rose champagne and sleeping between silken sheets? You must be enjoying yourself immensely, especially with that Royal Advisor whispering sweet nothings into your ear.”

“Quit.  _ Spying.  _ On me!” It was one of the biggest transgressions he’d ever done to her - sending out eyes and ears to violate her privacy and report back to him. His need for control and to be able to know everything had gotten the best of him, and she found it unnerving as she wondered just how much of her secrets that he really knew. Why must he still keep tabs on her now? What does he want from her?

“I’m just a man who happens to have friends everywhere-”

“Spies, you mean.”

“I most certainly never asked them to keep tabs on you. That information was shared voluntarily-”

“After threatening them and theirs.”  

“Darling-”

“Don’t call me that.”

_ “Darling,”  _ he repeated with greater emphasis, “have I actually threatened you into divulging information you are not willing to give up?”

“No.”

“Have I either used, promised to use, or intimidated with any form of violence on you?”

“No. You get someone else to do that. On other people.”

“Part and parcel of the job. We learn to delegate as best as we can. Otherwise we’d never get anything done. But that is a different topic entirely. We’re talking about you now.” He suddenly got up, smiling down as he towered over her. “As a whole, I have been nothing but magnanimous to you.”

She heard what he was saying, and she still couldn’t believe how beyond ridiculous it was.

_ I may be an asshole, but I wasn’t  _ that _ kind of asshole to you.  _

And so she said it: “No. You’re still an asshole. End of story.” 

“Oh, do not think that your pretty little boyfriend is entirely blameless. He sends spies after you as well. They watch you 24 hours, and report every single thing they see to him. Who you saw, where you went, what type of ramen you had for dinner…”

She narrowed her eyes. Ardyn’s definitely paddling into dangerous waters now. “Liar.”

“On the contrary. I am  _ anything _ but. See for yourself.”

He produced a brown envelope from his coat and handed it over to her. After a marked display of reluctance, she took it. 

There were photos inside. Some in sharp definition, some grainy from enlargement. It seemed like something taken straight out of an espionage movie. The more she shifted through the shots, the more her fury mounted. Hadn’t she been violated enough already? Not by one, but  _ two  _ men?! What is it with their need to be on top of everything?

She heard Ardyn’s voice, sounding so far away. “He’d obviously thought that you’re still untrustworthy. You don’t exactly inspire confidence, do you? What with your recent behaviour and your previous affiliations…”

“Why are you doing this?” she asked. Quietly. Measuredly. The calm right before the storm.

“I don’t quite follow. What-”

“Is it because of what I did to you? That I used the excuse I was unhappy and then went behind your back and had an affair? I know it isn’t an excuse, and it’s wrong. I get it. You were hurt, and betrayed. Even more so when you knew Julian wasn’t yours. This whole thing’s messed up, that’s what it is. And it’s all because I was too chicken shit to look at you in the eye and tell you that it isn’t working anymore. We’ve got nothing left to get back to, and that eats you up alive. I know it did to me. I should’ve said this to you before…”

For once her face wasn’t contorted in anger or hostility. She stared at him with a look of sincere regret.  

“I’m sorry.”   

Something flickered in Ardyn’s eyes. His half-grin, earlier on so smug and teasing, was slowly fading away, being supplanted with...what? Regret? Sadness? 

Pain?

For the briefest of moments, Aranea glimpsed his vulnerability. All he needed was an acknowledgement. An apology. If he’d ever harboured any hope whatsoever that they could get back together, however, that could no longer happen. That door’s already closed for the both of them. Not only closed, but sealed tight with the only key thrown away.

Within that span of seconds, they’d both finally understood that. 

He suddenly frowned, shaking his head as if ridding himself of those thoughts. 

“He’d made considerable effort digging up your secrets, you know,” he said. 

“What?”

“Granting access to your military records was easy enough...thanks to my help,” he went on, pulling out something else from his coat. “But of course I had to make sure that he didn’t see this…” 

It was another photo. Much older. She was much younger in it. It wasn’t the proudest moment of her life, but it was still there, documented within blocks of black and white pixels. Details were smudged in some parts, but what transpired during the very moment that photo was taken was clear as day. 

She recognized the Imperial uniform, the Crownsguard, the whiplash motion his head made as she pummelled him, the spatters of blood and spit on the grimy floor. She could even smell it: the coppery tang, the dusty fug of moldy walls, mixed with the stench of sweat and despair. She was really putting herself into it, because her superiors were watching, and because she had a lot to prove...not only to them, but to herself as well.   

But mostly it was because it’s much, much easier hitting a bound and defenseless man who was already on his knees and had surrendered himself to his fate. 

She felt a wave of shame wash over her. 

“Imagine what loverboy would think of you now, once he knows you’re a Crownsguard killer.”

“It  _ wasn’t-” _

“You were the last person to see him alive. And I find it funny how...less than three days later, his wife’s body was discovered. Right around the same time your own disappearance was noted.” 

“You wanna narrate a whole textbook of ancient history here, by all means do it. I’m out.”

“Oh, there’s going to be a whole lot more narrating, once the official tribunal takes place.”

Her footsteps faltered. “What?” 

“You honestly didn’t think that they are simply going to let you walk away after failing your duties as a soldier and an Imperial citizen? This isn’t some school club where you can just quit by not attending.”

Aranea scrunched her eyes shut, fingers trembling as she clenched them into fists. It was a joke, really. One big screwed up joke. And Ardyn was the punchline. She knew this day would come. They would hound her, no matter where she was, and they’ll never give her peace, until she gave them what they wanted. 

“For betraying the Empire, and for colluding with the enemy, you now stand trial before the military council. Do await for correspondence from us for further instructions. Oh, and try not to skip town this time. I will keep on finding you, you know.”

Ardyn cocked his head sideways. Aranea was turned away from him, so he couldn’t see her expression. But the rigid line of her shoulders and back was already telling.        

“You want to tell him about this? Or should it be me?” he said. “Because one way or the other, he will find out.” 

She said nothing.

He went on: “You should also tell Edna while you’re at it. You know...since you’re already in a confessing mood and all.” 

“What does she have to do with anything?”

“The Crownsguard’s wife who was murdered. She was her daughter. It  _ was _ your handiwork, wasn’t it? I find it in poor taste if I end up accusing the wrong person. But I’m usually right about these things.” 

* * *

“She talks about not wanting to be back in a cage.”

“‘Course she doesn’t,” Gladiolus grunted. “Just look at what Ardyn’s done to her. Listen, man...Aranea’s a wild thing. You can’t give your heart to wild things. They’ll always want to break free and do whatever they damn well like. If you can’t accept that, then you’ll be in for a rough ride, buddy.” 

“What does one do, then?” 

“Let her come to you. Be there for her when she needs you. Make it clear that no matter what, you’ll always be home to her. Be a static point, really. You’re pretty good at that. And for goodness sake be careful of what you promise her. She’ll cut and run the moment she knows you’re not keeping your word...and believe me when I say she’s  _ very  _ good at spotting the signs. Amirite? Yes, I am. Whozagoodboyden?” 

There was a tiny mewl, followed by a very contented purr. Ignis pursed his lips. 

“Speaking of wild things, you really should take your own advice,” he said, cautiously eyeing the baby coeurl rubbing itself against Gladio’s boots. The thing was half-starved to death when the Royal Bodyguard discovered it, after being abandoned by its mother for being the runt of the litter. He’d brought it back to the Citadel, and introduced it to a mother cat who’d just given birth. She’d instantly adopted it, and now it was running around the Glaives’ training yard, thinking that it too was a kitten. 

Ignis had already lost count the times Gladiolus had brought home strange - and potentially dangerous - pets, and had also been privy to the tearful separation - mostly in Gladio’s part - when it came to releasing said animal back into the wild. 

“You’re exposing the other kittens to a potential risk. What if it accidentally electrocutes them?”

“Young coeurls can only start usin’ their whiskers from age one onwards. This lil’ guy is barely three months. Look at him. How can you look at this dumb fluffball and not want to be friends with him?”

“When I think that he’ll turn into a 200-pound killing machine?”

“Aw, don’t listen to the mean man. He just doesn’t know how awesome you are, eh Milo?”

“Oh, please don’t name it,” Ignis groaned. “You know it’s even harder to let go once you do that.” 

The baby coeurl gnawed on Gladiolus’s fingers as he tickled its belly.      

“Aranea, she’s...the kind who demands nothing and yet expects everything,” he said, wincing slightly when the coeurl’s claws cut a bit too deeply into his skin. “She wants loyalty? You give her 1000%. She wants acceptance? Well, you give her just that. But what she values the most? Honesty. If you can’t look at her in the eye and tell the truth, then she’s as good as gone.”  

“That’s what I have been to her all this time! What else does she expect?”

Gladiolus sighed deeply, as if thinking that Ignis had missed the point. 

“Met this guy once. He breeds fighter dogs and puts ‘em in tournaments. All very illegal, of course. Anyway, he’s got this butt ugly mutt. Clearly has seen better days. One eye’s missin’, ears all chewed up, body like a goddamn mangled carpet. Walks with a permanent limp too. Now normally dogs like that will get put down coz’ they don’t bring in any profit, see? I asked that guy what’s so special about the mutt. He told me three men tried to kill it. It chewed the hand off one guy, bit another in the family jewels, and the last guy lost his nose. Literally.”

“What’s your point?”

“I’m sayin’ Aranea’s that dog. You try to corner her, she’ll fight you to the death. Give her lotsa space, let her be in control of the situation, and she won’t see you as a threat. Ya savvy?” 

Ignis wrinkled his brows. He obviously didn’t. “A threat? Are you saying that she thinks I might hurt her?” 

“Booyah! The boy finally gets it!”

“I-I think I do. But at the same time I don’t. What?” 

Gladiolus had to do a double take. Ignis had always seemed so confident, so sure of everything; but now he just seemed so...lost. It was sad, really. His old friend reduced to this uncertain thing, questioning his every next step. Gladiolus perfectly understood why.  

It’s hard to be objective when your own heart and soul’s at stake here. 

“Listen: she says that people change, right?” said Gladiolus. “Things change? Those’re her very words? Well, she’d just witnessed her Mr. Right morph into Mr. Fucking Asshole. And then she’s got you. Another potential Mr. Right Now-”

“Right Now?”

“Yeah. Right Now until you too turn asshole-y and once that happens, she’ll pack up and leave. What? Ya think she’s gonna stick around for another stupid schmoe who can’t or won’t treat her right? Hell, she’s probably thinkin’ that she might be making the same mistake all over again.”  

“Well, there’s no way of being certain until we both give it a try, isn’t there?” 

“That’s what you gotta make her understand. Convincing her with words ain’t enough. Gotta show her with actions. But for now? You wait.” 

Ignis said nothing. Gladiolus cast him a sidelong look. The man was obviously ruminating over his words.

“Sooo…” said Gladiolus tentatively. “Ya gonna do it?”

“Do what?”

“The prenup. When - no -  _ if _ ya decide to marry her. I mean, love is fine and all, but you still gotta protect your assets. You’ve worked too long and too hard for what you’ve got. It’s both a smart and stupid decision...dependin’ on how you see it.”

“After that meltdown I’ve witnessed? I think she’d already made it clear how she felt about it.” 

“She’s one tough broad, I can give ya that. Would’ve banged her if you hadn’t gotten to it first. What?” he challenged when Ignis gave him a sharp look. “It had to be said, okay? Anyone with half a brain could see how hot she is. A real handful, but still smokin’ hot. Just the right type for you. If it ain’t challenging, you’d never have bothered with her in the first place. I  _ know  _ you, Iggy.” 

“She isn’t some game that I hunt for sport, Gladio!”

“I  _ know _ that, dumbass. I’m just sayin’ that you wouldn’t settle for a wilting flower. That’s just ain’t your style. Still - I gotta ask this: when push comes to shove, do you know what your priorities are?”

“What kind of question is that?” Ignis asked testily. “Of  _ course _ I know!”

“Just makin’ sure ya still remember your oath. ‘Coz with Noct, it’s ‘till death do us part’ too. You’ve already said ‘I do’ and exchanged rings with him first. We all did. Aranea and Julian...well, they just gotta learn to accept that.”

“And what does that make me any different from Ardyn?” 

Gladiolus shrugged. He had an answer to that, of course. But he wanted Ignis to come up with his own. “Them’s the breaks. It’s been our lot since day one. Tough concept to swallow, I know, but...why d’ya think the Marshal never got married?” 

“First you tell me to play to her tune, now you’re telling me not to prioritize her,” said Ignis in mild exasperation. “Which one is it?”

“Hey, I’m just givin’ you two doors, man. Both leading to completely different sets of reality. What you do next is entirely up to you.” 

Ignis watched as the baby coeurl padded over to him, sniffing curiously at the tips of his shiny shoes. It took a half-hearted swipe at him, and its claws got stuck into the fabric of his trousers. It tried to free itself, but lost balance and fell flat on its face instead. Gladiolus chuckled, looking like a proud father watching his baby walk for the first time. 

With a click of his tongue, Ignis bent over to extricate its paw. He wasn’t about to let a silly furball ruin his pristine trousers. 

The baby coeurl rolled onto the ground, as if enticing him to play with it. When he ignored the invitation, it lost interest and got up to look for other fun and interesting things.  

He was beginning to understand Gladio’s fascination with wild animals.

You respect it. Admire its beauty. Its power. But by no means  _ never  _ ever lower your guard. See it as what it is: this magnificent thing that could literally slice your face off.

Maybe with Aranea he should be like that too.

* * *

 

Ignis’s brows were like dark stormclouds looming in the horizon. If there’s a spot on the map that could aptly describe him right now, they’d usually be marked by a big red ‘X’, followed by the saying ‘Here be dragons’. There’d be skull and crossbones signs too, placed for good measure. If that wasn’t enough to deter clueless travelers, then nothing else will. 

The migraine had been pounding on his left temple since early this morning. What started out as minor pinpricks of irritation, had bloomed into spikes of white-hot pain lancing over his brow and stabbing his eyeball mercilessly. It felt as if his brain was trying to pour itself out through his ears. Not even two doses of painkillers could help ease this vice-like sphincter around his head. Oh, if only he could just knife himself in the eye and bring an end to this misery! The sunlight, usually a welcome presence in his office, had now become his nemesis. He blinked, once again irritated at how bright the windows seemed to be. There was even a faint corona around the edges of his vision, pulsing and distorting with every beat of his veins. 

A wave of nausea rolled over him. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and forced himself to focus on the Crownsguard standing before him. He was young, this Crownsguard, barely past his twentieth year. Was Ignis like him at this age? All nervous and sweaty and eager to please his superiors? Was this how he looked at King Regis back then? Come to think of it: could this person be lying about his age? He seemed more like he was seventeen, what with his acne problem and proclivity to roll himself on the balls of his feet as if he was a child reciting for a school play. It suddenly dawned on Ignis that the recruits were really getting younger as he was getting older.

He resisted the urge to bark the order to stand to attention. The young man was nervous, and how nervous he was could be measured by the number of ‘umm’s he uses in his sentences. Agitating him further would only increase the frequency of ‘umm’s. 

“Repeat again what you just said, only with lesser sentences,” he said. His tone could cause frost to curl upon windowpanes. 

“Umm…”

“If you could tone down the ‘umm’, I would appreciate it greatly.” 

His instincts had told him that Aranea was trustworthy. But he was told by others that she was untrustworthy. Such a betrayal he had committed, all in the name of his king. He knew he could’ve just asked her outright, and she would’ve answered as honestly as she could. 

Her military records had been too perfect, too truncated to be taken at face value. There were discrepancies within the timeline, empty spaces that didn’t quite connect one thing with the other. The events leading to her escape from the Academy were never documented, nor were the actions taken as a follow-up to that incident. Surely a doctor could provide professional input at this point - inside her psych eval report, at least. 

So he had her observed, discreetly. Never by a large team. Just two green Crownsguards. It’d be good field experience for them. Their reports of her had been tame. She’d gone to the convenience store, she took the monorail, she went to the Citadel for meetings and presentations. Just the usual humdrum of daily life. It seems like Aranea had fully slipped into her civilian’s skin and had no intention whatsoever to go back into her former life. He didn’t blame her. He understood her desires, even. He even understood why she never talked about that part of her to him. There’s no point in sharing shame, or pain, when you’re trying your best to put it behind you. 

But still... 

“So me and Pollux were watching her, alright? It was my turn, um, ‘coz he already did the night shift. Um, we saw her exit the building and walk to the convenience store. She came back out with breakfast, but instead of going back into the apartment, she crossed the road and went  _ straight to our car! _ I-I mean...I was shocked and all. None of the training manuals said anything about this, sir.”

“You don’t say?” murmured Ignis, with twisted irony showing from a finely-raised brow. 

“So she knocked on the window. I woke Pollux up ‘coz she might go behemoth-shit on us. Security precaution and all that so…”

“Go on.”

“She gave us doughnuts.” 

Silence, as the true magnitude of the truth started to slowly sink in like a rock. 

“I beg your pardon?” said Ignis, with measured patience. It suddenly occurred to the young Crownsguard that the more polite Ignis sounded, the angrier he really was.

“Doughnuts, sir,” the boy - Ignis wouldn’t deign to call him a man yet - repeated. Then, with the determined air of someone ready to say the truth come what may, he added: “It was strawberry-flavoured.”

“My, what an  _ interesting  _ point of observation.”

“Um-”

Ignis sighed deeply. His tolerance was hanging by a flimsy thread, and when he spoke, he spoke with the vehemence of a thousand deities and the full weight of their wrath: “So help me God, if I hear another ‘um’...”

“Sh-shesheshe j-just started asking us questions, sir!” the Crownsguard stammered. “About who we are, about our mums, when are we going back for the holidays, that kinda thing. She’s really just super nice and friendly. Frankly I dunno why you’re even watching her-”

“What was that?” Ignis rapped out sharply. He wasn’t like Cor. He doesn’t tolerate lip from his subordinates. 

“Sorry, sir! She gave us coffee and-and muffins too...with nuts. Sadly Pollux couldn’t have any ‘coz of his little problem…”

“Did she say anything else?”

“She asked who gave us the order to tail her, but of course we couldn’t say. Classified information and all that.” 

“So much for a covert operation,” Ignis muttered. 

“But then she sorta knew…? I mean, I  _ swear _ we told her nothing!”

“I believe you. After that what happened?”         

“She said, she said…” the young man burbled.

_ “Yes?” _

“Sh-she just leaned over and told me to say:  _ Tell Scientia he’s in deep shit.” _ And because he somehow felt that a certain amount of decorum was in order, he added:  “Er, sir.”

The clock on the wall went  _ tick tock.  _ The Crownsguard’s soles scuffed against the floor as he tried to maintain a proper stance. But he was so nervous and the Royal Advisor was looking at him like he was some disgusting creature that had just crawled out from the cesspool and oh God, he’s  _ so  _ gonna get into trouble for this...he just  _ knew  _ it. 

But whatever righteous punishment that was about to come upon him was stalled, when the door suddenly opened and in walked Aranea, marching boldly as she pleases, with the clear air of stating that whatever it was occupying Ignis right now - be it a national crisis or an apocalypse - he’d have to stop whatever he was doing and tend to her first.

“Ah, Caius,” she said pleasantly, addressing the young man. “Nice to see you again. Now, fuck off. I’ve got business with him.” 

The young man sent a pleading look towards Ignis, who huffed and nodded. “I expect a full report in writing by tomorrow morning.”

“Yessir!” 

He fled the radioactive confines of the Royal Advisor’s office, glad that he’d escaped with his skin and vital organs intact. 

Ignis laced his fingers together. “How may I help-” he began.  

A sheaf of photos fluttered towards him, some hitting him squarely in the face. 

“-you?” he finished.

O-kay...so this is turning out to be  _ that _ kind of meeting, then. 

“You had me tailed,” she growled. “Didja tap my phone too? Put hidden cameras in Noct’s apartment? Make a recording of every damn thing I say?  _ Let your men watch while we fuck?” _

“I did none of that sort, I assure you.” 

She took a seat without waiting for his invitation, swinging her feet up and planting them onto the table, right on top of a stack of paperwork. She even had the brazen cheek to shoot him a challenging stare, as if saying:  _ You may scare the living shit out of your staff, but I’m not afraid of you.  _

“Why did you do it? Are you dumbasses still hung up on the possibility that I might go rogue on you? Y’know, since everyone’s expectin’ it to happen, why don’t I just do it for real, huh? Try to murder Noct with dental floss, or a Moogle soft toy. Yeah, I could see that working out perfectly.” 

When he spoke, the ominous creaking of thin ice could be heard in his tone. Enunciating each syllable clearly, he gritted out: “Get your feet. Off the table.  _ Now.”  _

She ignored him. “You could’ve just asked.”

“Would you have answered? Honestly?” 

“I might’ve. Eventually.”

“See, that’s where it doesn’t work for me. I don’t deal with maybes and eventualities. I deal with facts, and everyday I have to deliver them. I can’t bloody well say you don’t need to be observed without offering a valid reason why. Our relationship notwithstanding-”

“Relationship?” she sputtered in disbelief. “We bang our privates together! It can’t get anymore relative than that!” She caught his expression, and added: “What, you think there could be something more to this? Hell, no! Especially when you’ve made it abundantly clear that you don’t trust me! If we can’t have that, what makes you think we even  _ have  _ a relationship? Because of Julian? He’s just a...an excuse. You think you have the answers, but you’re lookin’ at the equation wrong.” 

Ignis had had enough. He was tired, his brain was exploding, and he really had no mental nor physical capacity to deal with this right now. “What then, is the right answer, pray tell? What sacrificial lamb could be offered upon the altar that would appease the ire of the great Aranea Highwind?” 

She narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t even know what was worse: him being on the defensive, or him going beyond the point of caring and not even bothering to put up a fight anymore. She wanted him to push her back, dammit. Get that familiar rise out of her so that she could properly be angry at him instead of having this feeling of intense hurt and isolation. 

“Do not, for even one measure of an instance, assume that I am beyond reproach in this matter,” he said. “When it comes to the king, it is not just my decision alone. It is one of many. I have gone under intense scrutiny the moment my association with you has been let known. There’s always a play, an angle that could be foreseen, and one misstep could prove disastrous for all. The royal court is no place for fairytale whimsies, as you and your overtly cynical mind had long ago surmised. Well, I for one concur. However, as much as I want you to believe that I trust you, those other men and women who also act as the king’s advisor do not. I may bear executive authority on certain areas, Aranea...but with Noct’s security I only play a partial part. So no - the idea to put you under observation wasn’t mine per se. As it is, his safety is of the highest order, and it is my duty...my  _ obligation  _ to see it through.”

They clashed gazes for a while. She was the first to look away. Shaking her head, she said: “You’re just like Ardyn.”

It was a riposte that cut so deeply that Ignis was momentarily stunned. How could she? How  _ dare _ her? To even compare him to that lunatic?

She got up and went to the door. Pausing for a moment, she turned to him. “Y’know, I’m thinking that maybe with Julian we should just share joint custody.”

There was a ringing in his ears which made him question what he just heard. Is she...really saying what he thinks she’s saying?

She shrugged. “Like he spends a fortnight with you, and then another fortnight with me. Or alternate weekends. Whatever works.” 

He finally managed to move his tongue. “This is madness, Aranea.”

“I know. What’s crazier is us getting involved without really knowing each other. I’m not gonna go through that again.”

“Aranea, I-” He felt a poker-hot stab of pain as he got up, forcing him to sit down again. 

She was already gone. 

She made her way to the elevators, eyes stinging with unshed tears. Cor was already there, with a group of people. He spotted her, looked at her up and down, and took note of the dark expression on her face. Whatever problems she’s having, he’s definitely not going to get himself involved. 

The corners of her mouth set into a determined line. Might as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. Things couldn’t possibly get anymore shittier than this, right? 

She marched up to him, and punched him right in the face.

* * *

 

**Next episode: Aranea’s confession.**


	26. Luv Sic aka Cry Baby Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea recalls her final mission to Cor, and Julian makes an important wish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **PSA announcement:** And we are back to regular broadcast! So sorry for the absence. This time, I will see this fic through right to the very end. Lots of things have been taking over, mostly me getting back to making fanart. If you are so inclined, do check out my [Kingsglaive! Aranea](http://swizzlecahoots.tumblr.com/post/164935928875/kingsglaive-aranea-highwind-the-au-that-nobody) and [Niflheim! Ignis](http://swizzlecahoots.tumblr.com/post/165640531335/niflheim-ignis-a-companion-piece-to) pieces over at Tumblr. And also check out my entry for [Highspecs Week](http://swizzlecahoots.tumblr.com/post/165762981580/marking-her-man-my-entry-for-highspecs-week) and this other [boudoir piece](http://swizzlecahoots.tumblr.com/post/168070587080/aranea-doesnt-mind-telling-the-whole-world-who).  
>  \--o--  
>  **Quick recap of previous episodes:** Julian gets sent to Altissia. Aranea and Ignis gets into a big fight, and she ends up punching Cor. She stands accused of murdering a Crownsguard prisoner of war, and with a pending court martial hearing, she stands to lose everything: including her life.

Hands roughly pushed her into a chair.

Aranea winced. Being wrestled onto the ground by three Crownsguards was no joke. She massaged her smarting wrist and straightened her back, feeling her spine pop. Note to self: do not, under _any_ circumstances, physically provoke the Marshal.

She heard his voice coming from behind. “Leave her be. I’ll be fine.”

“But sir-” began one of the Crownsguards.

“I said I’ll be fine,” Cor stressed. “Close the door behind you.”  

He came into view, tentatively dabbing at his lower lip with a thumb. When it came away smeared with blood, he turned a baleful glare towards her. She stared back, neither apologetic nor remorseful.  

He considered his next move. There’s plagues of frogs, locusts, darkness and boy bands. Then there’s Aranea Highwind. Sometimes he thinks they’re all one and the same.

He eventually sought solace from the drinks cabinet. With the exciting prospect of dealing with her looming like a flotilla of ominous clouds, he needed a steady reinforcement of his beliefs, and two fingers of whiskey would do the trick.

Her brows raised when he placed a filled glass in front of her.

“It’s too early for that,” she pointed out.

“Really? Would it made any difference if I closed the blinds and pretend it’s night time?” he gritted out, placing the whiskey bottle onto his desk with a decidedly loud _thunk._

She looked down at the drink. “This poisoned?”

Eyes never leaving hers, he reached out for the bottle, poured another serving for himself, and downed it, wincing slightly when his broken lip complained.

After the briefest of hesitations, she took her glass, sniffed at it, and then ventured a sip. It wasn’t half bad. A really good one, even.

“Now,” he said, “I’m sure you have a _fascinating_ story to tell me on what this is all about.”

“I want you to arrest me.”

“Do I look like a goddamn police to you?”

“I killed a Crownsguard.”

“Hmph, offed one of the recruits, have you? Well, you’ve just done everyone a huge favour. This year’s batch is simply atrocious.”

“It was Decimus.”

Cor’s expression hardened. Whatever traces of dry humour he had evaporated like dew. Decimus. Why does it have to be Decimus? The pain in his neck. With Aranea combined, they’re _two_ pains in the neck. He exhaled, slowly; leaning back in his chair as he stared at her. “Tell me.”

“Way back then, I had a mission to interrogate him for information. We know there’s sleeper agents in our ranks, and my job was to find out who they are and what they do.”

“Hardly a suitable task to be given to a greenhorn cadet, don’t you think?” he grunted. “What...you think a seasoned field agent would break after a few punches? Please.”

“You’re right. I didn’t get anything useful from him. Whatever training you’ve been putting your men through, it sure as hell worked.”

Cor raised his glass in a mock salute. “Always nice to know there’s something we’re much better at than the Imperials.”

She fished out something from her pocket, and placed it onto his desk. They both stared at it in silence. It was a heavy totem she’d been carrying around for almost twenty years - a sobering reminder of the futility of fidelity. She could’ve thrown it away...pawned it off or had it melted down - but unlike all of the other identities of her past that she’d cast away, this one stuck to her.   

“Looks pretty,” Cor deadpanned. “How’d you end up with it?”

It was a wedding ring, with Decimus and his wife’s name inscribed on the inside.

“He asked me to give it to her. Wanted to tell her that he forgives her. I thought it was stupid. He said it didn’t matter what I think. Said that when the time comes, I would understand.”

“Was he still alive when you left?”

“In a bad shape, but yeah - he was.”

“And that was the last time you saw him?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, then. I’ve got bad news for you. You can’t be tried for murder if you didn’t actually do it. Simple concept. Can’t be that hard to miss.”

“He could’ve died from what I did to him.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. He didn’t.”

“How would _you-”_

_“He didn’t.”_

She stared at him. He squarely matched her gaze, eyes narrowed and the trademark granite-hard set of his jaw telling her that he was willing to play the eyeball contest the whole day if need be. There’s something else in the narrative, but he wasn’t telling; and come hell or high water he’d never will.

She focused instead on the toiletries bag lying half-open on his desk, toothbrush still damp from recent use. A discarded blanket lay on the couch, along with a well-used pillow - she could still see the imprint of Cor’s head on it.

This was a man who spends so much time in his office that it was practically his second home. His actual home was probably as sparse as his office, although it would find his presence severely wanting.  

“Everyone knew the story of Decimus.” His voice brought her back to him. “We use it as a reminder to what happens when you get emotions tangled up with the job. Always ends up messy. And dead. And believe me: being dead’s not exactly the worst thing. He left the king’s service. Willingly. I signed his discharge papers myself. Went off to be with his wife, and she sold him out the first chance she’s got. I tried to warn him about leaving, but he wouldn’t have none of it. Stubborn and stupid. Always been like that since the first day I started training him.”

“So the rumours about him being a traitor wasn’t true?”  

“See: here’s the thing about Decimus. He’s somewhat of a...loose agent. He’s got a tendency to deviate from his orders. In the field, he is- _was_ unpredictable. He's been known to jeopardise his teammates on more than one occasion. We sent him on a solo mission thinking he couldn't possibly cause more harm than he already did. We were wrong. He did even worse for himself. I wasn’t the one who branded him a traitor. But people tend to choose whichever narrative that suits them the best. Always has been. Always will be. Now why don’t you cut the crap and tell me what this is _really_ about? You can’t possibly be here because of a dead field agent.”

Aranea stared at her drink. A queasy feeling unsettled her stomach. “I just got a court martial summon.”

Even the Marshal stilled at those words. “On what charges?”

“Treason. Shirking of duties. But mainly desertion.” She paused, the silence as heavy as her next words: “You know what _that_ means, don’t you?”

Cor remained impassive, but something hardened in his eyes. Desertion was punishable by death, especially in times of war. And they were at war - although not actively.

“All those while I was with Ardyn...none of this shit ever happens. Now that we’re-” she stopped, hating to even say the word. She changed tack. “Now that I’m on my own, he says they’re pushing for a trial. I’d hate to think that he’s the only thing that’s stopping it from happening. Does he really have that much power? No. But he’s got influence, and he may have pulled a few strings or two.”

“When’s the hearing?”

“They’re still fixing it. I’ll only know once I’ve got the official summons.”

“So you assaulting me is...what? One last-ditch attempt to get yourself jailed here rather than Gralea? Even if I were to press charges, they’d probably put you in a holding cell for a day and then release you with nothing more than a fine and a rap across the knuckles. You gotta do worse than that...like rob a bank….or try to assassinate the king. Although the punishment for _that_ is instant death, so I doubt your situation would be much improved.”

“Duly noted. Maybe I’ll try that the next time around.”  

“How did Ignis take this whole thing?”

“He didn’t know...yet. But I reckon he will, eventually.”

Cor sighed. This wasn’t his problem, dammit. _She’s_ not his problem. But once Ignis gets wind of this, there _will_ be trouble. Oh, the man will be all professional about it, of course. But there’s no way...no _fucking_ way that he’ll take it lying down, especially once the final verdict has been handed out. He’ll find a way to fight it, and this time he’ll fight for her, and for their son; and as man with a vendetta, that will make him twice as deadly.

“Ardyn suggested that I killed Decimus’s wife too. But that didn’t happen the way he said it.”

Cor pricked his ears at this. This was something new. He’d heard about her death, read the reports, and thought that they’re completely unrelated. Who would’ve thought that the answer would come right through his door years later. And to think that it’s been lying right under his nose for the past month or so.

“I saw her that night,” Aranea went on, staring at a point on his desk, although her eyes were stuck in the past. “Confronted her. We got into an argument. She pulled a knife. I did what I was trained to do. We were on the stairs, and she just...fell.” She finally looked up at him. “It was purely self-defense.”

“And it was either you or her.” Cor knew exactly how that worked. “Look, I’m no judge or jury here. But from the way I see it, you didn’t kill anyone.”

There was a hint of an accusation in Aranea’s tone. “Yeah? And how’d _you_ know?” She was tired of this. Tired of everything. All she wanted was to keep her head down and maintain problems to a minimum. But it seemed as if trouble followed her wherever she went. Maybe it was time that she stopped running and faced this thing once and for all. But the thought of never seeing Julian again…

...or Ignis…

...was just too much.

She felt the telltale prickle of tears once again.

Cor pressed his fingertips together, weighing over the pros and cons of what he was about to reveal. “King Regis,” he began hesitantly, “sent me over to Gralea the moment we got word that Decimus was captured. My job was to assess the situation and take action as I see fit. When I found him at his holding cell, he was already in a bad shape - like you said. There’s no way I could mount a rescue operation without bringing the entire security detail over our heads. It was a purely one-man show, and I’d already had a hell of a time sneaking past the guards. So...Decimus made a choice for us. He knew what he was getting himself into. Said that he’d already said everything he wanted to say. I’m guessing that ring-” he nodded towards the glinting thing lying between them, “...was it.”

He waited a moment to allow the implication of his unsaid words to sink in, then went on: “If you want me to give a full statement during the hearing, I’ll do it. It’s the very least I could do. But for now, we wait. And tell Ignis as soon as possible. I don’t want him raising hell just because he’s the last man to know. And, Aranea?”

“What?”

“Unless if you enjoy living without hands, don’t try to assault me. Ever again.”

She somehow managed to exit his office and make her way into her car in a state of  semi-catatonic daze. She stared at the steering wheel and thought: _Go back to the apartment. Shower. Sleep._ Maybe by the time she wakes up things will be a little bit better.

She was driving along the highway when a very familiar voice popped up from the radio.

_“Smooth...the perfect aroma of freshly brewed premium beans...for the best rich taste in coffee…”_

It was the new Ebony commercial. And they’d decided to use Ignis’s voice after all.

She wondered, as tears fell freely down her face, how much he’s getting paid for it, and whether or not he’d already got his stupid supply of Ebony.

Two minutes later, she pulled over to the side and cried and cried and cried.

* * *

 

There’s no real cure for a broken heart. Aranea knew that much.

It’s been two days since she’d punched Cor, and it doesn’t look as if he’s pressing charges. As tempting as it was for her to lash out at anyone who showed the slightest amount of happiness, she stood with strained patience on the stool as the seamstress fitted her dress while listening to Lunafreya’s giddy prattle. The royal wedding gown was all ready and prepped, but once Lunafreya heard that Aranea still hadn’t gotten a dress of her own, she immediately ordered one to be made for her, ignoring Aranea’s spirited attempts of protest.

It’s just that…

...Aranea’s really not in a celebratory mood. And if she was being really honest with herself, she didn’t think she’d be able to make it to the wedding. The date of the court martial hearing cast a shadow over everything in her life.

Death by desertion.

It can’t possibly be that harsh. She didn’t flee an active warzone. She didn’t skip a deployment. And she most certainly never sold any secrets to the enemy. She just did what any disenchanted Imperialist would do - move on to greener pastures, preferably one not stinking with dogmatic fascism. She’d scrubbed herself clean of what she was. She’d stopped singing the song, saluting the flag. She’d refused to acknowledge fealty to the Emperor.

And yet…

She was still an Imperial through and through. She’d spilled blood, sweat and tears for the Empire once, and now it had come to collect the two things she’d valued the most: her life and freedom.

This was a good time as any to make amends with Ignis. Julian needs to be taken care of, and there’s no one else she’d rather trust his welfare with other than his own father. Ignis will understand. He’ll step up to the plate and perform magnificently. He was a maestro at what he does. It was almost as if he was good without even putting much effort. Which was a complete lie...obviously.

“Go totally naked,” she found herself saying. “Lingeries are so overrated. I mean, they’re all gonna come off anyway. If a man wants you, he wants you. Even if you’re wearing granny panties or period panties. You can’t go wrong with some mood lighting and strategically-placed body angles.”

“Oh,” said Lunafreya, biting her bottom lip as a light dusting of a blush crept over her cheeks. “It’s just that, I keep hearing about keeping the sparks flying, and-”

“The first year of marriage, you don’t have to worry about that. Sparks _will_ fly, and you’ll find yourself having all sorts of sex in the car, the office...even on the dryer. It’s all systems go at that point. Once you’ve reached the second year and people start asking about kids and when you’re gonna have ‘em...well, that’s when the real work starts. Because you’ve already pretty much explored each other’s avenues, you see? You’ve fallen into this routine where you know what he likes and vice versa. Real life finally creeps in, and in your case, it’s your queenly duties. Then it’s just quick kisses after breakfast and before you go to bed, because honestly? You’re both just too fucking tired to do anything else. No. Just go to bed naked, and rub up to him beneath the sheets just to tell him what’s going down. And then let things happen from then on.”

The seamstress clucked her tongue. “Will you keep still, please? I don’t want to prick you with my needle!”

“Well, that’s about the only prick I’d ever get,” Aranea muttered, and earned a dark look from the seamstress.

The dress was a sleeveless dove grey concoction. Lunafreya knew her taste well enough to keep the cut simple, and with some clever nips and tucks, that swathe of lustrous silk was molded around Aranea’s body and showed off her curves in a most pleasing manner. Not bad for something to be worn only for a day.

“What’s this, then?” asked Aranea, fingering a golden brooch of stylized wings pinned above her left breast. It glinted prettily everytime it caught the light.

“It is customary to wear the family sigil during formal royal events,” said Lunafreya. “Since you do not have one, I’ve taken the liberty to have one designed for you. Nothing, official...mind you. You won’t be granted a title or lands. Only the king could do that.”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“It is only a matter of observing the formality.”

“I like it,” said Aranea approvingly. “It’s so very me.” She sighed as she stared at her own reflection. “Wings of freedom.”

“What was that?” Lunafreya asked.

“Nothing. Just...thinking aloud.”

“That fabric sample you’re interested in has arrived, Lady Lunafreya. And you were right: vucana wool is just the softest thing ever,” said the seamstress.

“Really? Oh, lovely!” said Lunafreya, perking up. “Perhaps if I could just venture a quick looksee…?”

“Of course. If you’d just step this way - hold on for a minute, Ms. Highwind.”

And Aranea was left all alone, watching helplessly as the two chattering women exited the room.

“Yeah, don’t mind me,” she muttered. “I’m just your walking mannequin.”

She stared at her own reflections in the three-way mirror, arms akimbo as she turned her body this way and that. She’d begun to appreciate the pleated bodice, and how the right kind of bra could help put her breasts into a more pleasing effect. The V-cut neckline was ample enough to show a tasteful amount of cleavage. She reached down for the trailing train and twirled it about, watching how the material fluttered prettily in the breeze. She imagined herself walking down the red carpet in that dress with Julian in tow, all nicely scrubbed up and put into his own custom made suit, looking every inch as dapper as Ignis and how much alike they would be once he grows up.

Feeling rather silly for doing so, she did an awkward pirouette on the stool, nearly falling off in process. As she struggled to maintain her balance, an embarrassed chuckle escaped her lips.

She caught sight of a figure standing at the doorway and immediately stopped.

“Oh,” she said, hastily pushing her bangs away from her face.

It was Ignis. How he’d managed to get there without making a sound was beyond her.

He was staring up at her, facial expression carefully schooled into that impassive mode he was so well at putting on.

“I’m looking for Lady Lunafreya,” he said. “I was told that I would find her here.”

“You just missed her. She’s gone off to look at some cuvana - something.”

He titled his head, curious. “Cuvana?” he repeated softly.

“She’ll be back soon...I think,” she said hastily. “So if you could just...what d’you want with her anyway?”

“Just some...matters to discuss. Speaking of which-” he reached into his inner breast pocket. “I also have this for you…”

He had to approach her to give it.

“Your final cheque,” he said. “If you would just sign the payment slip, then our business is complete.”

She patted herself theatrically. “I don’t suppose you have…”

A pen appeared, as if right on cue. Trust Ignis to have everything, to come prepared. The day anyone could surprise him with anything would be a glorious day indeed.

“Great. If I could just-” she began, making that odious attempt of stepping off the stool. The dress was still precariously held together with nothing more than pins and rough stitches. One misstep would mean her standing in her underwear in front of Ignis.

Which wasn’t such a bad thing, really.

He made a move to assist her - an automatic reflex. He would do it for anyone. “Let me-”

There was a distressing ripping sound.

Aranea winced, still in half-on, half-off position. A seam had come apart, exposing a generous length of her left thigh.

“Maybe I should’ve lain off the chips and dip, huh?” she said, giving him a sheepish look.

Document duly signed, he gave it a quick once over before carefully folding it and slipping it into his pocket. “Noct said that you may stay in the apartment until after the wedding. All of the hotels are fully booked by this time. I trust you have received your invite...?”

“Yeah, but...I dunno if I’d be…”

“You’d be what?”

She could be in jail, or dead by the time the wedding rolls around. And he still has to know. He _needs_ to know. “I could bring a plus one, right?”

His expression soured all of a sudden. “You could bring anyone you like.”

“I meant Julian. He’s my plus one.”

“Oh. Well he is one of the most esteemed guests. Lady Lunafreya practically _demands_ his presence.” He allowed himself a wry smile at this point. “Wings of freedom.”

She stared at him, dumbstruck. Where the hell did that come from?! “What did you say?”

He nodded at the golden pin on her dress. “Lady Lunafreya has explained to you about the family sigil custom? I believe those wings represent you very well. For that is what you value above everything else, is it not? Your freedom?”

_No. I value you._

“Yeah,” she said, swallowing past a lump. “You got that right.”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. It was a smile, but it wasn’t a real one. “Well, I believe that concludes our business for today.”

“Hey…”

He’d made to turn, but stopped almost immediately. There was a blooming flower of hope in his voice, although it was too faint for her to hear it: “Yes?”

She rummaged through her bag, and came up with something. She handed it over to him. “Figured you might want this back. I’ve never used it...but of course you obviously know.”

It was his debit card. Loaned to her from the very first day she was at Insomnia. Memories of meeting her at her derelict office, seeing how devastated she was, the moments where they started working together...they all came flooding back at once.  

And look at her now: so strong, so capable, and so, so beautiful that it murdered him inside. She’d finally regained her footing in the world and it was largely because of him. She acknowledges that. She could’ve ceased all form of communications from him and simply asked Prompto to return the card on her behalf, but she didn’t. She respected him, and that’s the sole reason why they’re still talking face-to-face.

He looked back up at her. “No.”

Her brow shot up. “No?”

“No,” he repeated. “You will take what I am willing to give. It has always been like that with us, has it not?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Good day to you, Aranea. And goodbye.”

She watched him turn and walk away, her hand still outstretched. With every inch of distance he’d put between them, her world felt a whole lot bleaker.  

“‘Bye,” she whispered.

* * *

 

Julian listened absently to the tutor, heels drumming against the leg rest of his chair. He’d taken to pressing the blunted tip of his pencil into his dimple while daydreaming - a habit he’d cultivated perhaps in the faint hope that by doing so his dimple would deepen and appear more prominent.

He glanced outside the window for the umpeenth time. Today’s weather was nice and balmy, and it seemed almost a sin to be cooped up indoors. Edna had promised to take him out once his lessons were done, and half an hour later, he was skipping happily along the pavement, urging the nanny to walk faster.

He knew exactly where he was going, and soon enough, he found himself standing before the Tidemother statue. When he first saw it, he thought it was a funny-looking whale unicorn. But then a man from a nearby stall explained to him about an old tradition of the statue granting wishes, and that was precisely what he was going to do now.

“Remember, son,” said the man, “think about your wish, and you must want it with all your heart. Otherwise it won’t work!”

And so, with the mightiest might of his little heart, he carefully aimed the paper bird, poised to let go and let it fly. The statue towered over him, and while it may seem impossible to reach it from his height, he never allowed himself to think about it. He’d even declined when Edna offered to throw it for him. This was something he needed to do on his own.

As the paper bird sailed into the wind, he thought about what he wrote on its wings:

_I wish mom and Ignis would come visit me soon._

* * *

 

**Did the paper bird land? Or did it not?**

**Next episode: Reconciliation.**


	27. Orpheus and Eurydice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aranea commits animal cruelty. Ignis gets an apology. And Ardyn had to come along and muck things up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, enough with the fighting, kids. Let’s have some make up sex.

_“Listen, you gotta understand that Iggy’s not the only one calling the shots here. He’s got the veto vote, sure...but so does ten other people in the royal court. If they think their king’s in potential danger, they gotta take steps to make sure it doesn’t happen. It’s their job.”_

“U-huh. Yeah,” said Aranea absently. She was staring at the apartments for lease website, cellphone pinned between her cheek and shoulder as she listened to Prompto prattling on. At the moment she was skulking at the cheap section, and cheap in Insomnia meant that she could only afford to stay on the outskirts, with poor access to public transport. Property value here was insane. She’d checked out the price for Noct’s apartment just on a whim, and balked at the number of zeroes trailing at the end. But does she really want to stay in the same city as Ignis? There’s always Lestallum, or Ravatogh - even though the latter was more of a tourist attraction. She’d bookmarked them anyway, for when she was desperate enough. 

_“Now, I ain’t sayin’ that it’s right for them to invade your privacy. Or even legal. I mean, they’d put me under surveillance once when they found out who I really was. I’m talking about wire-tapping, suspicious people camped outside my door kinda thing. But Cor vouched for me, and I was given the all-clear. Sheeesh...it’s almost like I was quarantined for having a disease or somethin’...you know?”_

“Maybe all Niffs are diseased. Like rats, killing everyone everywhere we go.”

_“Aw, don’t say it like that, Aranea.”_

“Vermin, then.”

_“Iggy loves you something awful, you know. I saw him the other day, and he hasn’t exactly been the same since you left. He doesn’t care who you were. He only wants a life with you and Julian. I mean, compared to you, he’s only had a taste, for frick’s sake! He’s enjoying it, and he wants more. Make it permanent, even. Can’t you at least give him that?”_

“I...I dunno.”

_“What’s that supposed to mean?”_

“It’s complicated.”

_“Every relationship’s complicated.”_

“Don’t you know it.”

_“Talk to him. Clear the air between you two. The only reason he hasn’t contacted you yet is because he’s giving you space. Plus, he doesn’t know how to approach you. He’s not exactly a relationship expert. You gotta start the first step of the dance, ‘coz otherwise he’s just gonna spend the rest of the evening being a wallflower. And wallflower Iggy is an unhappy Iggy.”_

Aranea hung up. Maybe apartment-hunting wasn’t in the cards today. Her heart really wasn’t in it.

There’s some leftover food in the fridge.

They’re properly packed in colour-coded tupperware containers, labeled with a date in Ignis’s careful and meticulous writing.

She took one, stared within its murky depths as she tried to guess what was inside. The stubborn part of her wanted to just take out all the food and chuck them into the wastebin, container and all. But her appetite won when her stomach growled. Rather loudly. Screw her stupid ego. She’d rather be full first before continuing to feel sorry for herself.

Five minutes later, she burnt her tongue. She hadn’t bothered to let the food cool down first after taking it out of the microwave. As she gulped down a glass of iced water, eyes streaming from the pain, she could almost hear Ignis’s disapproving cluck, gently berating her for being careless and then reminding her to use a plate instead of eating straight out of the container. She’d teased him so often for being a mom, and now she’d give almost anything to hear him scold her again.

New tears sprung up, and it wasn’t because of her smarting tongue.

What could be said about crying while eating was this: it’s one of the saddest, most isolating thing you could possibly do, especially when you’re standing all alone in the kitchen and all you could imagine was the person you’re missing to be right there with you.

Aranea choked on her third mouthful. Unable to eat anymore, she pushed the container aside and tried to calm herself down. And it worked...to a certain extent. She’d grabbed a handful of tissues, dried her tears, honked her nose, and attempted to smile at the world.

And then immediately burst into tears again.

_Stupid, stupid Aranea._

Stop wasting your tears over a guy.

You should’ve learned by now.

She spotted Julian’s goldfish by the sink, and suddenly found herself trying to remember when was the last time she’d fed the thing. Probably ages. Usually it was Ignis who did it. Now that he’s no longer around, it’s probably slowly starving to death. It stared back at her accusingly. There’s nothing more insulting in the world other than being eyeballed by a stupid goldfish. What the hell is it even doing here? Why was she even responsible for this thing? Why can’t Julian bring it along to Altissia? Why must everyone trouble her with such trivial stuff?!

Sudden, irrational anger seized her, and she grabbed the goldfish container and tilted it over the sink, watching the water slowly pour out. The fish seemed to sense that the water level was reducing. It started darting about frantically, trying to find an escape route.

_Yes...panic, little fish. That’s the only thing you’re ever good at._

She thought it’d be fun watching it die a slow, agonizing death...much like the current status of her relationship with Ignis. They’re running out of space, running out of reasons to stay together. He condoned spying, he kept things from her-

_You keep things from him too._

_And you cheat. And you lie._

_And yet he still forgives you._

_Why are you always the asshole, Aranea?_

_Because he’s too fucking good for you._

The water drained, the fish landed onto the bottom of the sink with a wet plop. It started flipping about, gills pumping desperately for air. She watched it floundering, thinking that this was exactly how she was feeling. Dying, choking, with no chance of a reprieve. The executioner’s noose is tightening, and all she could do next was dance in the air.

She idly thought about people getting hanged, of how their legs would twitch and spasm, body fighting for that one last whiff of life - a danse macabre of almost beautiful proportions, like a ballet reveling in the death and decay of things...of how beginnings should have endings. Of how firsts should have lasts.

Considerably weakened, the fish now lay on its side, heaving as its mouth formed the _wop, wop, wop_ shape only stupid animals could do. It was staring at her, silently begging for help. It’s only a fish. It was doing the best it can. Aranea being angry at it doesn’t make the world any better. If anything else, it’ll only rot her soul even more.

Maybe _she_ was that fish. She was someone who needed saving, someone who’d reached the end of her rope and was just desperately hanging on, trying to find a way out. Ignis came along and made that possible. He’d made a lot of things possible for her. He’d opened avenues in her life that had previously been inaccessible. And all that he wanted in return was for her to accept him and love him.

That revelation was like a thunderbolt to her.          

The fish found itself being picked up and placed back into its jar. It was still swirling around in fresh water sprinkled with a generous amount of food pellets when it caught Aranea’s distorted image rushing out of the kitchen.

* * *

Aranea leaned closer towards the window and stared up at the sleek apartment building before her. It was those hyper-exclusive properties, located at another one of the most affluent postcodes in Insomnia. She was parked right across the street, because she was too stingy to pay for the visitor’s parking rate inside the building.

Her finger tapped a tattoo onto the steering wheel as she contemplated on whether or not she should get out. The apartment number was branded on the forefront of her mind. She’d been thinking about the owner ever since he’d stopped calling and seeing her altogether. She tried counting the floors, trying to imagine what he was doing at the moment. Sometimes she’d perk up whenever she saw someone exit through the front doors, wondering if it was him. But that’s stupid. He had no reason to go out at this hour, and even if he did, he’d be driving. It’s hard to imagine him walking anywhere.

Finally she switched off the ignition, wrenching the key out before exiting the car. As she slammed the door shut, she glanced up at the signage nearby. It said: STRICTLY NO PARKING FROM 7AM-7PM. Well, it’s 8pm now, and she wasn’t planning to stay long. She’ll say her piece and then leave. What happens next will be entirely up to him.

Droplets of rain stung her skin as she jogged across the road, watching out for any incoming traffic. A gust of wind picked up, whipping her longer bangs into her face. She shook them aside, rubbing her now chilled arms. She’d left her jacket on the back seat, but she wasn’t about to double back just to get it.

She was only a few feet away from the entrance, but something held her back. She didn’t think she’d be this nervous just for wanting to see him. What was she supposed to say? Apologize, obviously. Look at him in the eyes and be sincere. But how could she even break the ice? Normally she’d make a joke out of it. She highly doubted that he’d appreciate it, though.

Fifteen minutes later, she was still standing outside. It was raining cats and dogs, and she was soaked to the bone. It’s almost as if Ramuh had called up an entire ocean and upended it over Insomnia. She’d yet to make any progress in her apology plan. So far she was still stuck rehearsing her lines over and over again and trying to convince herself that this was by far really the best idea. Well - obviously not the catching pneumonia part, but the part where she offers an olive branch.

Shit, it’s starting to get _really_ cold out here.

She stared up the building, blinking the rain from her eyes and feeling them trail down her face and dribble off her chin.

At times like these, she was reminded of those soap operas, where the lovesick suitor would stand outside in the pavement, waiting for something. Then by the end of act 2, somebody’s either dying from a secret disease, or moving off to another country, or gets amnesia and conveniently forgets that they have a lover - whatever hammed up reason the writers could think of to separate the lovers.

Well, she’s the narrator of her own story, and right now, her story wasn’t going anywhere.

There’s only one way to find out.

She’d finally made her mind up.

* * *

Ignis was elbow deep in soapy water, scouring the bottoms of pots and pans with a metal scrubbing brush until they gleamed. The repetitiveness of this task was therapeutic, and by keeping himself occupied, he wouldn’t be thinking about things that shouldn’t be thought. Thus far he’d attacked the rest of the kitchen with great gusto, armed with miscellaneous industrial-grade cleaning agents, a pair of rubber gloves, and a very firm and steady hand. When it came to spotting imperfections, he’d beat all of the mother-in-laws in the world. The countertop was now spick and span. The cutlery were arranged so neatly according to size and category that it’d make a seasoned butler bite his own bowtie in envy. He’d even got down to his hands and knees and started prying the grime between the floor tiles with a butter knife. So dedicated was he to his task that the buzzer had to ring twice before he heard it.

He frowned, wondering who could be visiting at this hour. Rinsing his hands off, he padded over to the intercom. He pressed the speaker button. “Yes?”

 _“Mr. Scientia?”_ It was the security guard from downstairs. _“You have a...uh, visitor. She said her name’s Aranea.”_

His brows shot up. What does she want?

“Send her up.”

_“Very well, sir.”_

He cast a critical look around the living room, making sure that everything was in order. He hurriedly yanked off his apron, hanging it onto the coat stand and then running his hands through his hair in an attempt to make himself more presentable. No point in looking like an uncouth barbarian for...whatever it is that she came here for.

The bell rang. He opened the door, revealing a bedraggled apparition dripping water onto the carpet. She looked like she’d wandered off and fell into a drain somewhere. Her mascara was a smudged rivulet beneath her eyes, and her t-shirt was completely soaked through, outlining the black bra she had on underneath. She had her hands clasped close to her chest, almost as if she was praying. To what god and what denomination he wasn’t sure of.

“My goodness. What happened to you?” he exclaimed.

She stared up at him, her lower lip trembling. “Are you…are y-you...”

“Am I what?” It was then he noticed that she was shivering. Oh, poor thing.

“Are you dying?”

“Pardon? Am I _dying?”_ he asked, wondering if his ears needed cleaning.

“Are you dying?” she repeated, this time insistently. “Do you have some secret chronic disease that I don’t know of? Answer me!”

“I - no. Not that I know of. No.”

“No?”

“No.” Then, feeling like she was hedging him towards a series of more difficult questions, he asked: “Where is this leading, Aranea?”

“Are you leaving for somewhere?”

“Leaving? Like going on a holiday?”

“Like moving to another country. Like accepting another job elsewhere.”

“Such as? Gralea? I don’t think they have need for another advisor over there. Honestly, what’s with all this third degree?”

“I j-just-” She stopped. Then tried again. “I-I-I j-j-just wa-wa-w-” Her face suddenly contorted and she turned to the side. “Ahh-tchoo!”

He clucked his tongue. “Oh, come on inside. You’ll catch your death out there.”

Whatever dramatic lover’s reunion that was supposed to take place at this point was supplanted by a much mundane act of her stripping off in the laundry room and him putting her clothes in the washer (along with his, of course...because there’s no point in wasting a spin cycle). Now dressed in his t-shirt and a spare towel wrapped around her waist, he produced another towel and started to dry her hair.  

“What on earth were you thinking?” he chided. “You could’ve called sooner. I would’ve come down and fetched you.”

She suddenly punched him hard in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” he exclaimed.

“I’ve fucked things up between us. And I’m sorry,” she said. “But you’ve fucked up too. So you should say sorry to me.”

“And a fine way of you asking that of me! I should think that apologies are meant to be less contrived.”

“Well, I’m sorry...okay? You’re probably already tired of hearing me apologize, but...well, I dunno what else I should say.”

“An explanation would be nice,” he said archly. “Of why you’d fly off the handle the moment someone uses the L word on you. Is there some new form of allergy that I’m not aware of?”

“I just...can’t stand it. The stupidity. The assumption that everything’s like a goddamn Hallmark card the moment people get hard-ons for each other. I just wish that everyone would wake the hell up.”

He tsked. “If that ever happens, the film industry would be _vastly_ different, and you’ll find yourself out of a job. Maybe not everything is peaches and cream. But that’s not such a bad thing, is it?” He raised a hand to gently pick up strands of damp hair from her face and tuck them behind her ears. “Love _is_ foolish. It is madness. It is poetic and yet at the same time soul-crushingly painful. It is many things. It is simply what it is. Now-” His expression was both stern and questioning like a schoolmaster giving his students a pop quiz. “What kind of love do you think we have?”

“The most terrible kind,” she whispered.

He snickered. “Yes. Terrible indeed.”

They stared at each other. He really wanted to kiss her.  

“So - y’know, can we just fast forward the forgiveness part and jump straight to the make up sex part? ‘Coz I’d totally be cool with that,” she said.   

He smiled, tilted her chin up with his fingers, and started kissing her for real. “There’s nothing I want more,” he murmured. “But first things first-” he clapped both hands onto her shoulders, abruptly switching the mood. “A spot of tea.”

* * *

He discovered that he’d built up a tolerance for her off-the-cuff comments. Which was why he wasn’t offended when she said that his place was ugly.

“I mean, everything’s so monotonous. Where’s the splashes of colour?”

“Perhaps you’re just not used to being in a place that’s not a pigsty.”

She shot him a sour look. “What, you’re sayin’ I can’t keep my place clean?”

“Evidently no.”   

She growled.

“Now, now. No bringing that animal behaviour to my dining table,” he said with the firm, yet gentle tones of a father chastising a petulant child. “There won’t be anymore butter biscuits for you otherwise.”

She was curled up in the chair, both hands on her knees as they cradled a steaming cup of tea. She relished the warmth seeping through to her palms, the pitter-patter of rain against the windowpane.

“Perhaps…” he said, tentatively venturing out a gambit. “The place just needs a woman’s touch.”

“No. What it needs is a chainsaw and a sledgehammer.”

Yes, Aranea’s definitely not the type of woman who’d trot from room to room armed with colour swatches and trying to find curtains that match. Her taste in interior design had to be borderline functional and eclectic, if the rest of her lifestyle were of any indication.

She sighed. “Honestly. I don’t know what you’re doing, sticking with me.”

“You’re not a bad person, Aranea.”

“Pfft, yeah-”

“No, I mean it,” he said very firmly, lowering his head so that he could maintain eye contact with her. “You’re not bad. Misguided, perhaps. You do not frighten me. _Not_ because I underestimate you. But because I know that you’re someone who tries her very best to make things right. You don’t normally succeed, but that has never stopped you from trying again. I admire that about you.”

He saw her gaze shift sideways, as if uncomfortable about where this conversation was heading. “C’mon, that can’t be-”

“I _know_ you. Perhaps better than you know yourself.”

Her eyes flickered up at him, swimming with surprise. But then they narrowed as if skeptical. She must be thinking that he can’t possibly know what he’s talking about.

He moistened his lips, readying himself for another counter-argument. He was going to drill this into her head no matter what.

“A string of empty beds and emptier promises. That’s what Ardyn has left you with. He’d deemed you unworthy, so you were shunned. Cast aside. Unloved. You didn’t think that the world was capable of giving you more than what you were already given. You hide parts of yourself, assuming that people do not see you as who you really are. But Aranea, _I_ see you. I see all of you. And believe me when I say this…”

She remained impassive, staring steadfastly at her mug because she really can’t bear looking at anything else at the moment.

“You’re good enough for me.”

Her face crumbled. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the mug, and yet she still tried to hold it all in...more out of pride than anything else. She shied away when he reached out for her.

“No, no,” she choked, hating how the tears now fell over her cheeks. “Don’t touch me.”

“Aranea-”

Tea slopped onto the table as she hurriedly put the mug down. The chair scraped across the linoleum tiles when she got up, getting ready to leave. She wasn’t comfortable like this, being rendered vulnerable by him. Crying was a weakness. Only cowards and babies would cry. She’d promised herself to never let anyone ever see her like this anymore. But _goddammit_ why was she still sniffling?

His fingertips brushed against her sleeve when she attempted to exit the kitchen. His hand found purchase the second time around, holding her in a firm grip as he pulled her back to him, turning her around and forcing her to look at him.

Already she could feel herself frantically summoning the will to put up walls around herself. Another skin covering hers, another face obscuring her real one. They ripple over herself, _within_ herself, changing her very psyche until all that she was, was the person she chose to be. She was Ulldor, high-ranking cadet of the 86th division - strong, uncompromising. She was Highwind - consummate trickster, expert liar. She was-

“No! Stop hiding yourself!” he cried. He held her by the elbows, her forearms crossed before her as if protecting herself from harm. He yanked her towards him, causing her feet to skitter forth. “Don’t hide yourself from me anymore. I know who you really are, and I still love you!”

“I’m...I’m…” she mumbled, in a confused daze. She no longer knew who she was. He’d ruined it for her. Damn him. _Damn_ him for seeing through her. No one should be allowed to know her. No one should even be this close-

He pressed his mouth against hers.

She was steel, with a heart of fire. And he was water. Just as his nature commands him, he nurtures, protects, cleanses. Just like the river underground he cleverly finds his way in the dark, patiently carving mountains and rock until they too, eventually, give in to him. He could be still and calm like a lake, or become a raging tsunami that destroys all.

He was water, and with her he was gentle, always gentle. Even steel corrodes with time, just as she crumbles beneath his touches, over and over again. With hands and mouth and eyes he’d strip her, layer by layer. All of her armour, all of her defenses, all of the parts that hides her from the rest of the world until all she was to him, was herself. Her real self. And her real self still had fire in her heart, and with her mouth she taught him about passion, of giving and receiving, of making him paint the walls with her name and permanently etch her love within his heart.

He had loved, and been loved before...but never with this much intense ferocity towards one person. Soulmates? Hah. Like her he wasn’t so naive as to subscribe to such flimflam notions. Love takes hard work, and they were both sensible enough to understand that. How can they, such polar opposites, find their union so fruitful? The answer was far simpler than it seems: she was everything he was not, and he was everything that she wasn’t.   

They’d eventually found his bed, and it was there that their worlds moved together again.  His lips were raw from feeding off of hers, and she found it unbearable to look at him. It was like trying to outstare the sun: so bright, so noble, so pure...searing her skin until she was nothing but ashes and bones scattering in the wind. This was his truth, and it shamed her sometimes. She didn’t deserve him, this shining creature of light. She was meant to languish in the darkness, alone with her thoughts and sins. He was Orpheus, reaching out into the underworld for his Eurydice. He’d lost her once; he won’t lose her again.

He called to her, in a voice trembling with desire, upon discovering that her gaze was hidden within the stinging blackness of her eyelids. His tongue found her breasts then, and when she opened her eyes, they were shining with unshed tears.

His heart spilled over, if that was even possible. Why does it hurt, loving this woman? Why does it hurt even more, hating her? Their lives were conjoined now, not only in body. Julian was their permanent link to each other, that child with the cat whisker scar when he’s angry, and a comma-shaped dimple when he’s happy.

He kissed her brows, her cheekbones, her nose and her mouth. She gasped, thighs opening wider and she thrusts her hips up with a greater spike of urgency. She was getting close, he could feel it. He wanted to see her, look deep into her eyes as they completed each other.

“Aranea…” he whispered, and it was enough; just enough to send her spiralling over the edge with him following closely behind.

And then all there was, all there ever will be...was oblivion.   

* * *

Ignis was woken up the next morning by a rather loud “Fuck!”, followed by a thump on the floor as Aranea fell off the bed.

He cracked open an eye and saw her standing before the glass windows, buck naked. She had her nose and palms pressed against the surface, seemingly looking down. A niggling worry started to worm inside of him, not of what she was looking at, but more of the denizens of the apartment across the street spotting a nude woman so early in the morning.

He was about to call her back to bed when she spun around and started gathering scattered clothing on the floor. She found his t-shirt and put it on. She found his underwear and cast it aside.

“Where’s my clothes?!” she demanded, casting her eyes about the room as if they might just trot up to her.

He propped himself up on his elbows, squinting in the sunlight. “What’s going on?”

“They’re towing my car! I left it in a no parking zone and they’re-they’re towing it away! Shit!” She got up and hared out of the room, feet pounding on the wooden floorboards. There was a crash from the kitchen. Ignis winced, wondering if this was another normal occurrence in her household. Whatever comfortable notion of them waking up together and cuddling each other beneath the covers had to be put on the back burner as he too got out of bed, wrapping the sheets around him and then padding over to the window. He looked down. A tow truck was indeed in the process of hooking up her car. Looks like he’d have to contact City Council to settle this.   

There was a frustrated shout from the living room: “Where’re my _fucking_ car keys?!!”  

Without tearing his gaze away, he called out: “Have you tried the coffee table? I believe I saw it there last. Oh, you’d better hurry. I think they’re driving away already.”

_“SHIIIT!”_

* * *

“Whatever happened to the days when all I had to do was smile at the officer, sashay my ass, and I get to talk my way out of a speeding ticket? I mean, it used to be that I just need to slap on sunscreen and lipgloss and then I’m ready to go,” Aranea lamented while she was checking herself out with a small mirror. “Now it seems to me the older I get, the more shit I’ve to put on my face.”

She was hit with a hefty fine, despite Ignis’s best intermediations. It didn’t help matters when a stack of unpaid parking tickets were discovered inside her glove compartment. She’d claimed that they were from the previous owner - an excuse which didn’t amuse the officer, who went on to order her to settle up within the next sixty days. She retorted by proclaiming that Insomnia was a bloodthirsty capitalist bastard of a city determined to suck its honest denizens dry, of which Ignis took it upon himself to drag her away and smile at the officer, wishing him a very good day.

“Ah, the halcyon days of youth,” Ignis hummed. “Seems to me we had far lesser things to worry about too.”

“Exactly! These days I walk past a construction site and nobody ever wolf whistles me anymore.”

Ignis stopped writing and carefully put his pen down. He steepled his fingers together, peering up at her over them. “You are saying that you prefer the unwanted attentions of callous, poorly-educated rubes who objectify and demean women. Am I correct?”

Aranea hesitated. “Well, if you put it _that_ way, then of _course_ not!”

“And feminism has yet again been taken down another rung. Excellent. I shall take note of that.” Ignis picked up his pen again. “Funny thing is, I can still hear the lamentations over the lack of chivalrous men. I verily wonder why.”

“They’ve mistaken feminism with misandry. Sometimes I think they can’t quite decide what to be, and _you’re derailing the conversation!”_  

“Oh, I _do_ so love derailing a conversation,” he said, smiling beatifically. “Look, if it’s any consolation, Aranea, I still think you're as beautiful as the day that I met you. Only now you’ve acquired a certain measure of…uhm...” he plumped around for the best description, and settled with “Gravitas.” Then, seeing her expression, he hurriedly supplied: “...it’s another word for ‘dignity’...?” When she continued staring at him, he tacked on - rather cautiously: “Well, perhaps a smidge, then?” He emphasized his point by holding his thumb and forefinger apart, and then squeezing the distance between them until they were half an inch away.

“Uh-huh. Okay, smartass. I’ll take that.”  

“Speaking of, I would very much like to see this infamous sashay of yours in action. Preferably from behind.”

“Love me when I come, love me better when I go, huh?” she said, brows waggling suggestively at the word ‘come’.

“I love you either way and any way that I can get.”

He pulled her onto his lap as she went over to kiss him.

“I’m gonna go find Prompto and bother him,” she said, arms resting comfortably around his neck.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here with me for far more...interesting pursuits?” His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt and stroked her skin as he said it.

“When anyone could just walk in at anytime? Didn’t think that you’re the risqué type.”

“Perhaps I have been persuaded of late to be a tad more adventurous.”

“My, my, Scientia...didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I only learned from the very best, Highwind.”

He still had a silly smile on his face after she left. He was reviewing the monthly spreadsheets when his speakerphone beeped.

_“Vid call for you, sir.”_

“Very well, patch it through.”

_“It’s from Chancellor Izunia.”_

Ignis looked up at the name. What the devil does _he_ want?

“I take it you have filtered it through the appropriate channels?” he asked levelly. It was a direct call from Gralea. Naturally certain security protocols had to be taken.

_“Yessir.”_

“Send it to the big screen, please.”

He got up and went over to the sofa. He reached for a remote on the coffee table. The flat screen tv mounted on the wall before him flickered to life, revealing the Lucis royal emblem as its background image. Eventually a rotating loading icon appeared, along with the message ‘Connecting. Please wait…’

The Chancellor appeared, staring right back at him. He was live, and he was smiling. Ignis already knew, at the back of his mind, that this wasn’t going to end well.

“Chancellor Izunia,” he said. “What an unexpected surprise.”

_“It is, isn’t it? I would’ve made polite enquiries pertaining your health, but of course you know this isn’t a social call.”_

“As it should be.”

Ardyn held up a finger, a conniving half-grin gracing his face. _“Word around the grapevine says that you’ve filed a petition to declare Julian as your son.”_

That wasn’t supposed to be public knowledge. Even Noctis himself wasn’t made aware of such plans.

 _“Now, of course I wouldn’t want to be the one to cast the first stone, but...perhaps the fact that I still hold joint custody over him would make your claim a tad…”_ he sucked in a breath, affecting a vexed countenance that was so fake it was nauseating. _“...difficult?”_

Ignis allowed himself a polite smile. “Surely we are not here to speak of my personal matters? I would rather let the court decide that.”

 _“Oh, but it_ is _personal. There you are, with Aranea running happily into your generous bosom, and now you’re staking claim over Julian too? My, my. Do you make it a habit to covet other men’s possessions?”_

“Possessions? No. Aranea and Julian are not properties that could be bartered. They are treated with humane respect, as they very well should be. Their decision to be here was made entirely by them. I play no part in that aspect.”

_“Such a clever play of words. Why, that silver tongue of yours could very well outmatch mine one of these days.”_

“I believe it already did.”

 _“Oh, touch_ _é.”_

Ardyn titled his head, regarding Ignis rather curiously.

 _“You know, I really am not a cruel man. I do believe in bringing families together. Ask your dear friend Prompto. Surely he’d recounted to you the time I orchestrated his meeting with his father.”_ He let out a small laugh. _“What a nostalgic reunion that was.”_

“You are here to negotiate Julian’s custody, then?”

 _“Negotiate? Hm, yes. I suppose you could say that. I must admit my suspicions were aroused when I got wind of your interest in my son, but then-”_ he stopped, faux realization dawning on his face. _“The pieces just started to come together, and now I finally see the big picture. It is you, wasn’t it?”_

“It is me...what?”

Ardyn leaned forward, finger pointed straight at him. _“Vesperpool. The fishing competition. Purple hyacinths. You were the one who suggested to me those flowers. I remember you mentioning that you were in love - how droll. And unbearably trite. It never occurred to me that it was my wife you were eyeing. I mean, thinking back now, it all made chronological sense. It is you. Julian’s real father.”_

“Yes, it is me.” Ignis wasn’t about to plead his case. Defending his ignorance to the fact that she was married only made the excuse redundant and irrelevant...especially in the face of what’s much more at stake here.

 _“And no doubt you have solid proof to back up your claim.”_ Ardyn was referring to the paternity test, obviously. Ignis’s result had come back positive - as well as it should be. Ardyn’s voice dripped with syrupy disdain at this point: _“Must’ve warmed the very cockles of your heart, doesn’t it? Discovering that you have a son? And then playing house with Aranea? Almost makes you believe that you’re all one happy little family.”_

“Let us get straight to the point. What is the sole purpose of this discussion? You’ve mentioned Julian, but what is it that you want?”

_“It’s not about him. Not really. No, I am actually here, to talk about Aranea.”_

“What about her?”

_“Regarding her pending court martial hearing. A date and place has already been set, and- oh dear, you seem surprised. Has she not discussed this with you?”_

“Court martial hearing? I’ve never heard of her mentioning such things before.”

_“Well, as it happens, due to her failure to perform her military duties, and for betraying the trust of the great Empire, she has been charged with treason. Now, I am acting on behalf of the Emperor to issue her an official summon for the hearing.”_

“This is preposterous. Why now? She left military service years ago-”

_“The correct term here is: AWOL. She deserted. And that action alone is punishable by death.”_

Ignis felt the colour drain from his face. “No,” he heard himself say, albeit distantly.

 _“Yes, I’m afraid. Oh, I_ do _so hate to be the bearer of bad news...I really do. But as it is, she is required by law to attend the hearing or face even dire consequences. Frankly, I’m surprised she never told you. She was already made aware of this last week. I took it upon myself to personally tell her.”_

Ignis’s mind was already whirring with a thousand thoughts at once. _Treason. Aranea. Death. Julian. Aranea dead. Executed._

He found himself saying: “I never thought that you would be a sore loser, Chancellor.”

_“Sore loser? How is that?”_

“I daresay it is you who stayed her sentencing. All those years, and only now she was issued the summon? By _you,_ no doubt? Not to mention during the aftermath of your separation and subsequent divorce. She’s fighting for full custody and now you think you have one final card to pull to thwart her plans? I see how it is being played now.”

_“Be that as it may, facts are still facts. Aranea has committed grievous offense to the Empire and she has to answer for that. I cannot undo it, and I most certainly cannot convince the Emperor to grant her pardon and allow her to skip off and have her merry way. She could’ve chosen to answer for her crimes years ago, but she did not. We have been far too lenient on her. She will face the tribunal and receive her due sentence.”_

“And I take it this ‘tribunal’ will be fair and listen to her pleas before doing so? She has the rightful access to proper legal representation. You wouldn’t want the Niflheim army to be known as unjustly biased and corrupt. Especially in light of the fact as to who heads it now. No doubt he will be presiding over the proceedings?”

Ardyn smiled, in the same way a shark would smile right before a meal. _“I’m afraid you overestimate the extent of my influence, dear Royal Advisor. This is really beyond my hands. Kindly relay this message to her. Tell her there is no escaping this. She is - as you well already know - very good as disappearing. I really hope for your sake that she does not do that again.”_

“Your concern is very touching, Chancellor-”

_“Do not mistake this for altruism, though. The only thing stopping your custodial claim over Julian is me. I may be persuaded to...expedite the court’s approval and relinquish all parental rights over him, provided if…”_

Ignis narrowed his eyes, expression already hardening at what Ardyn was about to say next.

_“If you give me Aranea.”_

* * *

**Next episode: True to the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, Ignis will lose Aranea the second time.**


	28. Do I Wanna Know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They try to find the best solution. They couldn’t.

Ignis stared out the window, brows furrowed. His hand rested over the ledge, thumb and forefinger rubbing each other in a meditative fashion as he got lost in his thoughts. 

A genteel cough brought him back.

He turned to face the others in the conference room. They were all seated around the table - his dearest and most trusted of friends and allies. Gladiolus. Prompto. Aranea. Cor. Lady Lunafreya. 

And Noct. 

They’d all heard the terrible news by now, and they’re all meeting up to discuss the next best possible action. Short of declaring an outright war, there really was nothing much they could do. 

Ignis only had two choices: surrender Aranea to the Imperials, or risk losing both her and Julian. 

It really wasn’t much of a choice at all.

“There’s gotta be another way,” Noctis said insistently. “We can-”

“I’ll go,” said Aranea. 

“Please,” Lunafreya implored, “Let us help find-”

“No. I’ll go,” said Aranea. She looked at the assortment of faces around her. They were now giving her their full attention. “It’s time I end this. Once and for all. No point prolonging it anymore. Who knows what other shit Ardyn will do if I don’t obey the court summons? You’re all aiding and abetting a military fugitive as it is. They’ll drag you into the hearing as well, and soon it won’t be just about me anymore.” She turned towards Noctis. “It’ll be about Lucis and Niflheim all over again. So, no. I’ll go. I’ll take whatever sentence they want to put me in. And if it meant killing me-” she stopped, and swallowed. “I guess it’ll happen anyway.” 

Someone slammed a hand onto the table, causing everyone to jump.

“That’s absolutely absurd, Aranea...and I will not have it!” Ignis burst out, palm still smarting. The others shifted uncomfortably in their seats. They’d rarely seen him so agitated before.

“Look, it’s already bad enough that I’ve gotten all of you involved in this. This is my fight. I...I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about this before. I thought that I was safe, that things are finally looking up-”

“You  _ are _ safe. Isn’t there a way for us to declare her a political refugee and officially take her in as a Lucian citizen?” asked Noctis.

“At this late in the game? Specially after Ardyn’s turned up the heat? It smacks too much of desperation,” said Gladiolus.

“So you’re saying that we should just let her be, then? Trot off to be a lamb for the slaughter,” said Ignis bitterly. 

“I ain’t sayin’ that at all,” Gladiolus countered pointedly. “That one you just filled in the blanks yourself, Iggy. I was just sayin’ that that particular move would make us look weak.  _ You  _ should know that. It’s your job to know that.” 

“Look, there’s no way around it,” Aranea cut in. “I’ve put it off as long as I can, but it’s over now. I’ll be at the hearing. I mean, thanks for all your help guys...but this is the point where I stop.” She swallowed hard, feeling all of her possible prospects being cut off one by one. It was like being locked inside a dark room. 

It was like being a dying fish. 

“It’s the end of the line for me,” she added.

* * *

 

Aranea rode the monorail, numbly staring at the landscape flying past. Sunset was enveloping the skies of Insomnia, dark silhouettes of buildings standing starkly against the purple and orange sky. Sometimes a familiar landmark stood out to her, and she kept her gaze fixated on it until it was gone. She recognized this route. It was the same one that she took with Ignis and Julian when they had their first family outing. 

Family outing.

What. The. Fuck.

It’s all one messed-up joke. And now she’s right in the middle of the punchline. 

She eventually reached the end of the monorail line, and had to get off. She could’ve taken the stairs to the opposite side to switch tracks, but her grumbling stomach reminded her that it was way past dinnertime. She exited the station, finding herself in a completely alien neighbourhood. It was mainly residential, with dogs barking in the distance and salary men and women walking back to their homes. There was a Family Mart nearby, thank goodness. She stopped by, bought herself a sandwich and canned coffee, then sat down on the bench outside. She slowly chewed her food, staring at the sandwich wrapper, convincing herself that this could possibly be the final sandwich wrapper she would ever see. Prison food won’t come with such proper wrappings. That is, if she gets prison time. If it’s an execution, well...at least she’d get her last meal and she could ask for a Family Mart sandwich and a goddamn Ebony coffee. 

During her ride back, she found herself staring at the lit up windows of apartment blocks and office buildings, wondering about the people in there. What kind of problems do they have? What do they do for a living? Do they worry about the next mortgage payment? Are they in the middle of having sex? If so, they must be enjoying themselves. 

How she envied them right now.

She finally reached Noct’s apartment, turning on the lights and letting out a small shout of surprise when she saw Ignis sitting quietly in the living room. He’d been in the dark since goodness knows when. He was still in his work clothes, meaning that he’d come straight here after office hours. 

“What the hell? You scared the shit out of me!” she exclaimed, clutching the wall to steady herself. 

He stared at her. Wordlessly he got up and strode towards her. A shot of alarm spiked up in her gut.

“Look, I know that I should’ve-” she began.

He silenced her with a kiss. A deep kiss that lacked the languorous sensuality or gentleness that he usually possessed. This kiss was feral, rough.

Needy. 

He began undressing her, pushing off her coat and bag without nary a thought of where it fell. She wasn’t ready for this, but in a way she didn’t mind. 

She knew exactly where he was coming from, and this was something that they both needed.

Her shirt was whipped off, followed closely by her bra. He palmed her breasts, mouth still kissing hers as he ground their hips together. The delicious friction he was causing was making her whimper, fingernails scrabbling over his shoulders as she tried to get her bearings. Right now she couldn’t tell up from down, so caught up was she in the haze of sensations. She was pinned against the wall, completely at his mercy. 

He went down on his knees, unzipping her pants and pulling it down, her panties along with it. They rolled down her thighs, bunching up at her shins. With a practiced motion, he pulled them completely off her legs, rendering her totally naked. He lifted her left knee over his shoulder, positioning himself closer to her. Already she could feel his breath fluttering over her sex, and she braced one hand against the wall, readying herself. 

His tongue found her expertly enough. The back of her head thumped against the wall, the dull pain superseded by the waves of pleasure resonating within her core. She was positively soaking wet by now. He was pleased by her moans, rewarding her with increasing speed and two fingers stroking her insides, playing her out like a musical instrument, and oh, how he loved coaxing out all sorts of noises from her. 

She came hard, clenching around his digits. It would be nice to say that stars exploded in her eyes, but all she could think of was the people in the window having sex. Where the hell did that come from? She felt a swish of movement, and Ignis stood up, towering over her once more. She stared at him through eyes still glazed over with euphoria, and at one point she believed she said ‘Fuck, I love you.’ to him. He responded by kissing her, tilting her chin up with one hand, smearing her essence over her cheek. He then hoisted her up in his arms. She wrapped her legs around him, allowing him to carry her to the bedroom.

She lay back on the mattress, watching him as he too undresses. Throughout this whole time he hasn’t uttered a single word. It was unnerving, but again - she didn’t mind.          

He crawled on top of her, covering her body with his as they kissed. A moment later, he had her knees pushed up to her chest. That’s how he liked to finish sometimes, relishing on the tightness this position afforded, and if he shifted the angle just right, he could make her moans louder. A few more deep thrusts and she shattered, with him following her closely afterwards. 

“I don’t want you to go to the hearing.”

She didn’t seem to notice when he wrapped the blanket around them. Their lovemaking this time weren’t superseded by a warm afterglow. If anything else, his mood was somber, a heavy arm draped across her hips while he listened to her heartbeat.

She let out a sigh. “Can’t be helped,” she said, keeping her tone light. “I’d end this now rather than keep on runnin’. Honestly I should’ve done this a long time ago. Serves me right for being a coward, huh?” 

“You are  _ not _ a coward!” he said vehemently. He’d raised himself onto one elbow, hovering over her just to emphasize his point. “Cowards don’t stand for what they believe in. You do.”

“Yeah, and a fat lot of good that did. Listen: I don’t care what Ardyn does to me-”

He dipped his forehead until it rested against her chest, his throat uttering a low, drawn-out groan. For a moment he seemed like a wounded creature, keening over its pain. The mere thought of Ardyn laying his hands on her, touching her, hurting her...it was just too much to bear. Ignis would take up arms right now, and march over to the capital city and kill that bastard if it meant that there’d be peace and quiet for them. But of course the solution was far more complicated than that. He knew it, obviously. 

“I really don’t-”

“Aranea, just stop. Please.” He kissed her. Her mouth, her neck, her shoulder, her breast, her womb. His hands were gripping her skin as if he never wanted to let go. He wanted them to meld together, him feeling her just as much as her feeling him. His blood, his heart, his very atoms fusing with hers just so that they’d carry each other always. The thought stirred his groin, making him hard again. 

She searched his face, the stubble on his jawline scratching her palm as she held him. He was prising her legs apart, already positioning himself. “As long as Julian is safe, then I’ll be fine. It really doesn’t matter what happens to me. Do you understand that?” 

“Yes, I do. But it matters to me what happens to you.” He’d changed his mind. He flipped her over, making her lie on her stomach as he raised her hips. He wanted to take her in every way he could that night. He touched the fleshy curve of her bottom, already quivering with anticipation. How long would it be until he’s graced with this sight again? Of how she looks when she’s coming, of how alluring she was when she’s giving him pleasure? Of the sinful things coming out of her mouth when she was caught in the moment? 

She wanted to say something else, something reassuring...anything that could help alleviate the sadness. But the only language they speak now was the language of flesh on flesh.

She grunted as her body rocked forward. He was already inside of her and she was sore, but she’d still let him set his pace. Their time was limited, and whatever scraps of moment they could have together, she would take it. 

She’d cried a bit, even when pleasure was sparking deep within her. His clever fingers had found her again, stroking her, loving her. 

The pillow cover rubbed against her cheek with each thrust. How many times have they desecrated Noct’s bed like this? His living room, his kitchen, his whole apartment? Which room have they not baptized with sex? Why was she thinking these thoughts now? 

She clenched her eyes shut, trying to brand this very moment into the forefront of her brain. Let them torture her, strip her of her very dignity and pride...but nothing and no one could take these memories away from her. 

She felt him shift and suddenly he was no longer inside of her. She found herself being flipped onto her back. A momentary snarl marred her features. There’s no way she’s staying at the bottom all the time. She rose up, pushing him down onto the mattress. Already his eyes widened in anticipation, fingers crawling over her hips as she positioned herself. 

“You’ll remember this, won’t you?” she husked, rocking herself back and forth, already feeling him fill her. The sensation was just too much for her to bear. “You’ll remember what’s it like with my pussy wrapped around your cock. You like seeing how my tits move when I fuck you hard. You like it even more when I’m on my knees fucking you with my mouth. I swear you can make me wet just by looking at me. Sometimes during boring production meetings I’d imagine you sitting next to me and I’d slide my hand down your thigh and make you hard. I just love seeing you cum. Will you-” she broke off, hissing in a breath. He was stroking her, hard and fast, in time with her thrusts. Stupid clever bastard. She could barely think. It wasn’t fair, what he was doing to her right now. 

Her words were uttered in breathless pants at this point. Her pulse was racing, and she could feel the thin sheen of sweat cooling her back. His mouth was on her nipple, nipping, laving, and oh, how she wanted to scream right now. How many fucking hands does he have? What the fuck? “Will you cum for me? I wanna see you cum. I wanna feel you cum deep inside me. I want you to fuck me till I can’t feel my legs.” There was a growl, and she felt his teeth on her jugular, his hands rocking her hips faster, pushing her down till she felt him deeper inside of her. Her mind blanked out at that moment. Let her have this. Let them have this. Let her die and be resurrected in the next life still bonded to him. And him to her. She would fight the gods themselves just for a chance to be with him. 

There were no words left for them to say at that point, save for their frenzied pace to reach completion. And completed her, he did. She came hard, harder than she’d ever been before. He followed closely after, spilling inside of her with a shout. 

She collapsed onto the mattress, boneless. Only their breathless pants filled the room, along with the rustle of sheets as they waited for their hearts to slow down. 

Eventually he bent over and kissed her temple. “I love you, Aranea.”

She smiled, reaching out to curl her fingers around his arm. “I know. And you’re a bastard for saying that.”   

* * *

 

Ignis waited for Aranea to fall asleep before slowly crawling out of bed. He padded out of the room, cellphone in hand. At the living room, he scrolled through his contact list. Finding it, he dialled the number. It was late, but he knew the person was still up. 

_ “Pronto.” _

“I’m going to require your assistance,” he said.

* * *

**AN: *covers face, hides underneath desk* I swear I’ve never written dirty sex talk before.**

**\--o--**

**Next episode: Goodbye, but not quite the goodbye that anyone would want.**


	29. Lacrimosa Dies Illa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trial. The sentence. A reflection. A separation. And Ignis’s struggles afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the first scene that I’ve written since the start of this fic has been added in - Ignis and Aranea’s goodbye.

She’d stood on the stand. Swore an oath to speak the truth and nothing less. The charges were laid out before her - all neatly outlined in bullet points meant to paint her as who they wanted her to be.

Guilty.

Aranea looked into the eyes of General Caligo Ulldor and saw none of the usual recognition there. Not that there were ever any. It was like staring into the face of a complete stranger. There were other high-ranking officers with him, including one who used to be her drill sergeant. They don’t know her anymore, after all these years. The woman before them was no longer the outstanding cadet, the one with a promising military career.  

She’d pleaded guilty on only one account - of not voicing dissent, of allowing the atrocities of the Niflheim army to continue on. Her silence meant compliance, and it had cost the life of one man.

They clearly weren’t interested in dragging the hearing for far longer than it was necessary, especially with the ruckus already happening outside. Ulldor gave one final parting word, and banged the gavel.

It sounded like a guillotine slicing over her neck.

Her sentence had already been given.

* * *

 

Ardyn eyed the crowd of people gathered at the gates of Fort Vaullerey. They were bearing placards and banners, chanting something he couldn’t make out of. A sizeable film crew had also arrived, training their camera lenses on the goings ons within the military compound.

He beckoned towards someone. Loqi Tummelt sidled up next to him.

“Yes, Chancellor?” said the young man, hands held behind his back respectfully.

Ardyn motioned towards the gates. “What is all that?”

Loqi regarded the spectacle for a moment. “Protesters, sir. Apparently they’re demanding for us to free comrade Aranea.”

“Free?” Ardyn uttered a low chuckle, as if the very word amused him. “Oh, those poor, uneducated buffoons. Do they even know why she’s here?”

“They do, sir. But given all the other mounting charges against us, her case was miniscule in comparison. They are saying that she is nothing more than a scapegoat, especially given her history with you- er...” he immediately faltered, staring at the Chancellor with consternation.

“Hm? What was that you wanted to say? Please don’t let me stop you.” Ardyn was smiling, in the same way a shark would smile in the presence of dinner.

Loqi cleared his throat rather nervously. “Given her history with _us,_ sir.”

“That’s much better. Now run along.”

Loqi scurried off with much jangling of his armour.

The corner of Ardyn’s mouth twitched in mild irritation. Those brash yokels at the gate weren’t the only thing he had to contend with. The King of Lucis himself had deigned to descend from his lofty perch at Crown City just to appear at the hearing, going so far as to demand that Aranea was represented fairly. He’d even brought the entire menagerie with him: those gaggle of three idiotic handmaidens forever trailing after his shadow, the Marshal, the future queen herself…

...and a squad of Glaives standing to attention, ready to spring into action should their king commands them to.

And at the centre of it all…

Aranea.

Now wasn’t the time to be trying anything. Not when there’s camera lenses ready to record what was going on.

So he spread out his arms, as if welcoming her back into his loving bosom.

* * *

 

Aranea stared at the chanting crowd. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

All she could think of, at that very moment, was the final phone call she made to Julian the previous night.

“I...might be going away for awhile, kid. I don’t know when I’ll be back.” _If ever._

_“Where are you going?”_

“A bunch of people said that I did something wrong, and I’m getting a timeout for that.”

_“You get timeouts too? I thought that only happens to me.”_

“Adult timeouts are different from kids. Sometimes we get put away for a very long time. But I’m really hoping that that wouldn’t happen to me. I wanna see you grow up!”

_“Would I still be able to talk to you? Send you my drawings?”_

She hesitated. She wasn’t sure about that. “You could try. Get Ignis to help you out. Speaking of him, I want you to listen to him and Edna while I’m away, okay? They’re both in charge. And I think you’ll be starting school in Insomnia soon.”

_“I’m nervous, mom.”_

“You’ll be fine. If anyone gives you any trouble, tell Ignis about it right away, okay? He’ll know what to do.”

 _“‘K.”_  Then, after the briefest of pauses, he added: _“I miss you, mom.”_

“I miss you too, kid. And I love you. You know that, right?”

_“‘Course I do.”_

“Now put Edna on. I need to talk to her.”

There was the sound of shuffling from Julian’s end, followed by a quick exchange of muffled conversation.

_“Ms. Highwind?”_

“Edna,” Aranea began, but suddenly realized she didn’t know how to continue. “I…”

_“I’ve heard. Mr. Scientia had already informed me. It’s terrible, what they’re doing to you. If there’s any way I could help-”_

“Just take care of Julian. He’s gonna need you now, more than ever.”

_“He needs you even more, Ms. Highwind. He’s a very brave boy, trying his best to understand the situation that you’re in.”_

“I know. Kid’s tough, but...we’re already askin’ too much of him.”

_“He will cope. He knows that there are people who can help him now.”_

Aranea tried again. “Edna, I’m-” She’s what? Sorry for what happened to Edna’s daughter? To her life? That she was partially at fault? What was she expecting out of this? Forgiveness? To lay out the truth? If it did, would it finally free her of this sense of guilt? Was this really going to be her last confession?

How ironic was it, that the woman whose daughter was killed because of Aranea was now being charged with taking care of her own child?

Oh, Ardyn must’ve been so gleeful when he’d thought of that.

Even more so when he’s delivered the master stroke of what he believed to be poetic justice

He really must be strutting to his own triumphant march now.

When Edna spoke, she spoke with such conviction and benevolence. _“I_ know, _Ms. Highwind. Unburden yourself. Do not hold on to this any longer. I’ve made peace with the past. So should you.”_

Aranea found herself gripping the phone harder, her finger twirled around the phone cord in nervousness. 

_“Julian is in good hands, I can promise you that. You need not worry.”_

Aranea said only two words before she hung up. “Thank you.”

* * *

 

There was no way to see Aranea alone after the hearing. She was put under constant surveillance the moment she’d arrived.

Thirteen months.

That’s what she got for torturing a prisoner of war.

Nevermind the fact that she was acting upon the commands of her superiors.

Her desertion had been a moot point. She was merely a trainee, not even conscripted to the army yet. And the law had explicitly stated that those who flee an active warzone deserves the capital punishment.

She was cleared of that, thankfully.  

The whole trial was merely a farce. The Niflheim army had been receiving a lot of flak over the atrocities happening in their detention camps, and also alleged illegal experiments on humans and daemons. Aranea was the convenient sacrificial lamb they’d strung up to be made an example of. Just a PR stunt meant to appease the angry and disenchanted masses.

Cor had done his very best, of course. As did Noctis. They stood on the stand with their statements, saying that Aranea was an exemplary individual, who did what she did because the institution she’d once stood for had failed her. They’d quoted examples where former Niflheim supporters had joined Lucis, and that Aranea’s case wasn’t a unique one. They both looked at Caligo Ulldor and blatantly criticized the army for grandstanding and refusing to see the real issue at hand.

The General was dismissive, stating that their points were irrelevant to the hearing, although by then their words had already swayed the jury. Ignis felt proud. He was the one who coached them on what to say.

And now he watched as Ardyn spread out his arms, smiling at them. Ignis felt a momentary wave of disgust. That man was probably secretly gleeful that he’d gotten Aranea right where he wanted. Whatever small, intolerable cruelties he had planned for her later...Ignis couldn’t bear thinking about that at all.

Aranea was standing so near to him. He wanted, more than anything else, to hold her right now. He won’t get the chance to do so after this.

It was as if she’d read his mind. She turned around, making eye contact with him. There were already a thousand goodbyes written all over her face. He nodded at her, stoic and reserved. His hand came up to touch her upper arm.

“Aranea,” he said, formally acknowledging her. But she knew. She knew that hidden within the four syllables of her name as he said it was a reminder, of the marks he’d left on her body, of the kisses that they’ve shared, and of the love they’ve made together.

She couldn’t trust herself to speak without bursting into tears, so she merely nodded back and gave him a small smile.

Noctis and Lunafreya was next. Aranea held out her hand, opting for a handshake instead of a bow. “Well, Your Majesties...looks like I-”

“Oh, none of that shit,” said Noctis, stepping forward and giving her a hug. “You come back to us, ya hear me?” he whispered fiercely into her ear. “That’s an order. If you don’t, I swear I’ll go all the way to Gralea myself just to get you.”

Lunafreya hugged her too, kissing both of her cheeks and cupping her face with both hands. “I shall personally see to it that Julian is well taken care of,” she said.

Gladiolus heartily clapped a hand onto her shoulder. “Next time I see ya - and I _will_ see ya, drinks’re on me.”

Prompto - bless the chocobo chick - smothered her with all his might, never wanting to let her go. “I’ll help look after Julian too,” he said, voice muffled into her shoulder. “I love you.”

Aranea smiled. “Love ya too. And...thanks. For everything.”

With a nod from Ardyn, a soldier stepped forward, holding a pair of handcuffs. Ignis clicked his tongue in displeasure. “Is that really necessary? She’s not an escaping convict.”

“Protocols, safety procedure, that kind of thing,” drawled Ardyn. He affected an innocent stance. _“I_ didn’t write the rule book, you know.”

Aranea felt the cold steel clamping around her wrists, felt it tighten until it bit into her skin. Her arms now dangled uselessly before her, weighed down. She half-expected a noose to fall around her neck and drag her all the way to the airship. It never came.

A lieutenant marched up and saluted at Ardyn. “Permission to proceed transporting the prisoner, sah!”

“Fine, fine, yes. Let’s get this over and done with.”

Two soldiers flanked Aranea, escorting her towards the gangway of the transporter. Another squadron was standing to attention near the ship. All of this fanfair, all this trouble, just for one woman.

One _extraordinary_ woman.

The crowd at the gates chanted their protests even louder.

Ignis watched her going further and further away from him, a tug in his heart and a scream pouring out of every fibre of his being at the injustice of it all. She will be gone soon, and once more he’ll be left behind with nothing but memories of her. His fingers curled into fists. Julian was the only memento of what they have, of what they _will_ have in the future...even though the future seemed so uncertain right now. He couldn’t just let her leave. He wielded power in the royal courts, and yet it still wasn’t enough to save Aranea. He was useless, helpless.

Lost.

She’s nearing the gangway now. Only a few feet more, and then there’s no turning back.

Suddenly galvanized into action, he felt his feet moving before he’d even realized what he was doing.

There were shouts, rifles drawn. He pushed soldiers aside, and he barely registered a barked out command to stand down. He didn’t care about all that.

“Aranea!” he shouted, pleading to the heavens that he’d be graced with this one last chance.

She turned, surprise registering on her face.

He grabbed her and kissed her, with all his heart and soul and everything in between.

Let the world stop, let everything end. But not this. _Never_ this.

He would never lose her again, for as long as he lives.

Hands grabbed him roughly, forcing them apart.

“I will wait for you,” he vowed, as he was pulled back. “Do you hear me? I will wait!”

Aranea nodded, eyes now glimmering with tears. He watched as the gangway closed, and he wasn’t quite sure, but he thought he saw her mouth something just before she disappeared out of sight.

It could be anything.

It could be nothing.

But he really wanted to believe that she’d said the one most important thing.

_I love you._

* * *

 

On the elevator ride to the top, Ignis stood in silence, closing his eyes and only opening them once the doors dinged.

Noct's apartment was deathly silent when he entered. It’s almost as if he’s desecrating the hallowed grounds of a tomb. Ignis half-expected to hear the pitter patter of feet and Aranea would pop around the corner with a big smile on her face.

He was sorely disappointed when that didn’t happen.  

He made his way towards the bedroom, mentally steeling himself for what he was about to see. Why was this one of the hardest things he had to do?

The sheets were still rumpled from their frenzied bouts of lovemaking the previous night.

Ignis stared at Aranea’s makeup strewn across the vanity table, at her open luggage with lumps of unfolded clothes spilling out of it like a disemboweled creature. She who never unpacks because she was in the perpetual state of leaving. Always moving, always impermanent, so much so that she’d once thought that Ignis was merely a fleeting encounter. Well, he was determined to become her point of home from now on.

There was a glass of unfinished water, still stained with her lip gloss. She must’ve forgotten to send it to the kitchen. Normally he would’ve berated this kind of behaviour, but this time he was glad that she’d forgot. Because it meant that signs of her presence was still here. He made a promise to himself that once they’re back together again, he would never nag her for leaving dirty dishes around. He’d gladly clean up after her, if only to keep on reminding himself how lucky he was to have her.

He picked up her perfume, taking a whiff at it; and immediately his mind played a fast-forwarded slideshow of snapshots. Of her. Only of her. Her bare shoulders as he kissed them. Her hair tickling his nose every morning. The way her eyebrows would shoot up whenever she’s delivering the punchline of a joke. That adorable crinkle on her nose everytime she’s annoyed at him. The way her palm felt when they held hands. That cocky grin she’d give when she won an argument with him. Each image quickly superseded by the next, all flickering across the silent cinema in his mind, of which he was the only audience.

His fingers ran over her laptop - quite possibly her most used item. He thought about the countless hours she’d spend over it; how she’d looked when she was working on something important; the marks she’d left on it - her fingerprints, skin cells, her very DNA. It may seem silly and trivial, but they’re all very important to him. They’re proof of her existence, that there were bright points in his life where she’s alive, radiant and beautiful. The laptop was currently powered off, but she’d given him her unlock password just in case.

Just in case she never came back.

He choked.

Finding a means to distract himself, he began picking up her clothes and folded them, placing them into a neat pile before storing it into the luggage. He’d packed up the remaining few of Julian’s things too, although apparently Aranea had already done most of the work. She’d thought of their son first before she’d ever thought of herself.

Now all that’s left was the bedsheet. He sat down on the mattress for a moment, mentally replaying the things they did last night. They’d really treated it as if they’d never see each other again. She’d looked at him with such longing in her eyes, running her hands down his face. Moments like that were now crystallized in amber in his mind, suspended in time in which he could replay it over and over again.

He sank himself into the pillows, and once more Aranea’s smell enveloped him.     

His eyes burned. Pain, loneliness and desolation gripped him within their tiny red-hot wings and trapped him in a perished landscape with no stars nor roads to guide him out of.

For a moment, all that could be heard within those four walls were soul-wracking sobs.

* * *

 

“I wanna do something for her. Dammit, it just doesn’t feel right - just sitting here and carrying on as if nothing’s wrong.”

“It is _precisely_ because of that that you must carry on as if nothing’s wrong.”

Noctis stared at his old friend, his confidant, his own Royal Advisor. “Don’t you want to do anything?”

“You know my answer to that, Noct. I do...but as it is, protocol strictly dictates that we are to remain neutral in political matters during our public address. There is already a division within the royal courts. Throwing your weight behind one side will only create a disproportionate imbalance, and that will cause even further discord among our people. We need to be united on all fronts - now, especially. We are already poised at the cusp of a great political shift. Your marriage, for starters. And Lady Lunafreya’s coronation. At this point, we must focus on the bigger picture, and not allow ourselves to be distracted over other things.”

Noctis said nothing. He leaned back in his seat, continued staring at Ignis. Eventually he shook his head in amazement.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he said. “Seriously. The love of your life is in prison, and yet you could still stand there and talk about my wedding.”

“I do what I must. As should you.” Ignis relaxed his stance, allowing himself to be at ease. “I appreciate your intent on this, Noct. I really do. But now, more than ever, you are subject to great scrutiny, and with that, we must take extra care on how we proceed next. We want the monarchy to come out strong, and if by doing so requires certain sacrifices, then...let it be so.”

“That’s complete baloney. I know you’re up to something. Tell me.”

Ignis sighed. There really was no hiding things from the king. “My efforts are small, but concentrated. At this point I could only wield the power of free press-”

“Meaning that those articles Dino and Vyv have been trumpeting about was your doing? And also that crowd during the hearing? Have you actually _seen_ how many people had turned up for that? It was all anyone could talk about for days! I should’ve known. Well? What’s the outcome?”

“Success is...promising. They may have managed to drum up more supporters for the cause. Sympathizers, mainly. Disenchanted Imperials. People still on the fence regarding the conflict. But at the very least people are listening, and taking action. That is more than I could’ve asked for.”

“Well, it’s better than nothing.”

“Precisely.”  

“I don’t like it, Aranea not being here. The concert should be partly about her.”

“No. It should be about the people. You, me, everyone else are just a small part to the bigger scheme.”

Noctis sighed. “I guess you’re right.”

* * *

 

Ignis rushed down the school hallway, scattering a group of students along the way. He’d just received a call from Julian’s teacher. Apparently the boy had gotten into a fight, and he was now being held at the headmistress’s office.

It’s only been a week now since Julian had lived with him. He’d transferred him back to Insomnia and brought him to stay at his apartment. He’d made arrangements with Edna to look after Julian occasionally, but other than that, he was now a full-time dad - chauffeuring Julian to school, fixing his meals, checking his homework, and planning outings for the coming weekend. Julian’s continuous existence had also gradually crept into his office - from the Justice Monsters 5 stickers now decorating the edge of his pristine sofa, to the scribbled drawings proudly put on display in picture frames; and staff had to stifle their laughter at the cactuar plushie and colourful toy train now gracing the top of his otherwise utilitarian desk.

The headmistress was already waiting for him, along with the teacher. There was Julian, sitting sullenly in one corner; his nose dribbling with dried blood and looking scruffier than ever. There was also the other boy, sporting a black eye and a busted lower lip, being flanked by his parents as they argued heatedly with the teacher.

“Ah, Mr. Scientia,” said the headmistress, a measure of relief in her voice. “So kind of you to join us. Please, have a seat.”

The other parents stopped talking and stared at him. They scrutinized his smartly-pressed suit, the gleaming royal insignia pinned to his coat lapel, and at the impeccable air of how carried himself. They were having trouble connecting this man to the demonic barbarian who’d just punched their son and wrestled him to the ground during recess.

“Allow me to introduce-” the headmistress began.

The other father pushed his head forth into Ignis’s personal space, jabbing an accusatory finger to his nose. “Your son hit my son. You will pay for his hospital bills, and I demand compensation!”

Ignis kept his eyes fixed firmly on the headmistress. “Tell me what really happened.”

The headmistress shot him a rather sheepish smile, as if embarrassed by this very matter. “Julian was involved in a brawl with Quint earlier on. Apparently Quint had called insulting names to Julian’s mother, and that was when the attack happened.”

“This wasn’t the first incident,” Julian’s teacher spoke up. “He had come to me before, saying that Quint had been bothering him for the past few days.”

“Bothering him how?” Ignis asked.

“Broke his things, left rude messages in his locker. At one time he almost fell down the stairs, and he claimed that Quentin had tripped him.”

“Is that true?”

“I have questioned Quentin regarding the incident, and he denied it.”

“Has my son shown you the offending notes?”

“He did, yes. But I felt that they were nothing more than a harmless prank. The children tend to play tricks with one another...simply because they wish to be friends but don’t know how to articulate it properly.”

The headmistress cleared her throat. “Now I’m afraid I would have to put this morning’s incident in Julian’s school record, stating that he’d been in a fight with another student,” she said. “It is protocol, and we do look into these matters very seriously.”

“So let me get this straight,” said Ignis, calmly and deliberately. He had the manner of someone poised to deliver the killing stroke, and only Julian could recognize it because he’d used that very tone everytime he was denied dessert for misbehaving. “My son has approached you, reporting the transgressions Quentin had done to him - one of which, I would add, could potentially cause him serious harm - and yet you took no action. And according to you, this harrassment has been going on for a while, under your tutelage, and under the very roof of _your_ school.” He pointed at the headmistress at this point. “And on the day when Julian decided to take action, to defend himself, and to defend the very honour of his mother, you choose to penalize him? Madam, I don’t know if you are aware, but his mother is currently serving a prison sentence and that experience has taken a toll on my son. It is a matter of great sensitivity to him, and by provoking him, Quentin has clearly demonstrated to everyone in this room that he - very obviously - possess none.”

Quentin’s father opened his mouth to protest, but Ignis beat him to the punch.

“By putting this incident in my son’s record,” he said, “you would have permanently and irreversibly branded him as a thug, a bully who knows no other mode of communication other than with his fists; while the whole truth of the incident will be obscured with muddy facts and hearsay. That same record will be carried forth to his high school, of which again he will be painted out unfavourably by his teachers and peers. So you see, madam, the injustice of this matter? He acted out of self-defense, and yet you chose to punish him. What of Quentin, then? Does he merely get off with a stern warning and a rap across the knuckle? Is that it?”

“He shall undergo proper disciplinary action, yes. His behaviour shall also be taken note in his record-”

“And how does that serve as a deterrent to his future behaviour? Would you be able to guarantee me that he won’t be a repeat offender? If not to my son, then to other students?”

“Mr. Scientia, it really isn’t-”

“School chooses to not take sterner action towards bullying. I’m sure the Minister of Education would be _very_ interested to investigate as to why this is the case.”

The headmistress blanched. She really didn’t need this amount of unfavourable attention.

“Nonsense,” Quentin’s father scoffed. “He’s just bluffing. There’s no way that he personally knows the Minister of Education.”

“I am the Royal Advisor, sir. As it is, I have the ear of King Noctis himself. And I do believe that the Minister of Education’s office is just one floor below mine.”

Ignis relished the moment of choked silence. Stupidity and ignorance he could deal with. And Quentin’s father was no different from the usual rabble he had to handle on a daily basis.  

“Madam, please expunge my son’s records of these charges,” he said to the headmistress. “I shall personally ensure that he will not repeat this kind of behaviour in future.”

Twenty minutes later saw him occupying one of the plastic chairs lining outside the staff room with Julian seated next to him. Ignis leaned back, legs stretched out before him and crossed at the ankles while the boy slouched in sullen silence.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” he eventually asked.

Julian continued his silent treatment. He clenched and unclenched his right fist, eyes burning holes on the floor.

“I know you are still angry-”

“He called her a dirty Niff!” Julian finally burst out. “An Imperial scum. He said he’s glad that she’s not here, otherwise she’d bring her MT troops and kill us all. He told me to go back home to the dog pound where I belong. He also said that I should eat shit ‘cos that’s what I really am.” His voice quavered at this point, choked with emotion. He was so close to tears. “I hate this! I hate everything here! Why’re people so mean to mom? She never did anything to them! Was it because she killed that man like they said? Is she really a bad person?”

Ignis had already reached out to wrap an arm around Julian, pulling the boy into a tight hug. His heart swelled at the sight of this tormented soul, too young to understand the world, too helpless to do anything about it. His burden wasn’t something a child ought to carry, and yet there he was, soldiering on with more guts and gumption even some adults couldn’t muster.

“What Quentin said and did, was uncalled for,” said Ignis. “He had no right at all to treat you - or anyone else for that matter - the way he did. And no - your mother is not a bad person. Why didn’t you say anything to me about this? I would’ve done something about it.”

Face buried into Ignis’s shoulder, Julian mumbled something incoherent.

“What did you say? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I don’t wanna lose any friends! Dad used to come to my old school and saw my teacher, and after that nobody talked to me anymore because they’re scared of dad.”

Realization finally dawned. Poor, darling child. The answer was painful and heartbreaking but Ignis had to say it.

“You are afraid of being alone again.”

Julian hiccoughed, beads of tears now falling down his face. They glistened in his lashes, each droplet a testament to his deep suffering. He suddenly pushed himself off Ignis. “I want you to train me. On how to fight. So that the next time anybody’s mean to me, I could do something about it.”

“And you think that doing nothing would be construed as cowardice? Weakness?”

“Yeah, obviously! I don’t wanna be a wimp! C’mon, you should teach me! If you won’t, I’ll just ask uncle Gladio to do it.”

“Violence is never the answer, Julian. That is the one important thing anyone should learn before they take up arms. Being a warrior doesn’t just mean bashing heads willy nilly. There’s discipline, commitment...and responsibility.” Ignis sighed, thinking that he should nip this matter in the bud before it got worse. “You need to learn to pick your battles. Some could be won by walking away, while some isn’t even worth fighting for.”

“This one is,” said Julian in quiet vehemence. “It’s mom we’re talking about here. I can’t not do anything. Even _you_ would’ve done something. Admit it.”

“I would have, yes. But I would also think it through first. I would be _smart_ about it, and that is something you have to understand in due course. Anyone who says that weakness is a liability is a downright fool. Strength is a gift. But so is weakness. One cannot exist without the other, and you need both to really understand who you are.”

“But I don’t wanna understand who I am! I just want to smash Quentin’s stupid face in!”

“You are angry - rightfully so. And you don’t know how to deal with it. You think that hitting him is the best course of action. But really: you can start by talking to me about it first. We can figure out the next step together. I do not want you to resort to unnecessary violence from here onwards, do you understand me? I wish to raise a gentleman, not an uncouth barbarian. You’re afraid of losing friends if I come over to school too often, but you’d still lose them anyway if you start beating other children up just because they looked at you wrong.”

Julian said nothing. Ignis allowed a moment for his words to sink in. Eventually the boy leaned in for another hug. “I’m sorry for causing you trouble. Are you mad at me?”

“No, I’m not. I am worried, however...and perhaps a bit disappointed. I will suspend your tv rights for a week. I want you to take that free time to properly reflect on your actions.”

Julian sighed. “Fiinneeee.” Then added: “I really miss mom.”

Ignis kissed the top of his head. “I know, love. So do I.”

* * *

 

The day of Noct’s wedding dawned bright and beautiful.

Ignis woke Julian up, nudging the still sleepy boy out of bed and persuading him to take a shower. He then proceeded to make breakfast, hearing the skies being punctuated by the booming sounds of canon salutes, fired once on a ten minute interval. He’d kept careful track. Seven shots so far. Seven more to make fourteen, to mark the coming of Lucis’s 114th king, Noctis Lucis Caelum himself.

He turned on the tv, where all the major channels were showing nothing but a live telecast of the wedding’s goings ons, followed by a constant stream of commentary. He watched as the camera switched from a view of the Citadel, to the team of guards maintaining the controlled flow of traffic, and right up to an aerial shot from a drone, capturing the throng of people filling up the streets. The royal procession won’t start until 10am, but by 8am the barriers running along the route were already packed. Some had actually been waiting since 6am.

A newscaster appeared, giving an hourly report. There was the official wedding portrait of Noct and Lady Lunafreya superimposed next to her, along with a crawling title at the bottom, saying ‘700 million gil tourism boost from royal wedding’. Which really wasn’t too far from the mark. Given Lady Lunafreya’s status as Oracle and beloved princess of Tenebrae, her people had flocked over to Insomnia just to witness her marriage and coronation. There were even stalwart supporters from Accordo and other Empire-controlled regions - all celebrating the herald of a promising era. And they’d all converged in the big city, eager to experience this historical moment.

Ignis felt a sudden deep pang in his heart.

Julian barrelled straight into him, naked save for a towel covering him. His hair was dripping wet from the shower, and after breakfast Ignis spent the next half hour grooming the boy the best he can. He was fully prepared this time - a careful and strategic application of pomade had tamed Julian’s wild locks into much more manageable curls.

“We really should see into giving you a proper haircut,” Ignis murmured, wrestling an errant lock into place. Much to his dismay, it sprang back up, flouting his authority over the matter.

“I look weird. I don’t look like me at all,” Julian pouted, staring at himself in the mirror. He was made to dress in a dark blue drummer boy suit, along with a light blue sash to match the colours of King Noctis. He would be one of the page boys made to stand with the king during the ceremony, and he’d only agreed doing so after being bribed with bountiful desserts and a brand new pair of sneakers.

And now he was beginning to regret his choice. Nobody mentioned anything about having his hair done.   

He unhappily fingered the golden frogging on his front.

“Do I have to kiss any of the girls?” he asked.

Ignis carefully affixed the royal sigil pin to Julian’s sash. “Not if you don’t want to. Which girl are you referring to?”

“Y’know, the one who brings flowers for Lady Lunafreya…”

“Oh, the flower girls, you mean? No, you don’t have to.”

“Are you gonna kiss any girls? What’s that?”

“This?” He had another pin in hand. “This is the Scientia family coat of arms. They usually go together with the royal family’s.” He made final adjustments to the sash. “You are a Scientia now. We are a line of wise, tenacious and brave men and women. Wear it with pride. And to answer your first question: no, I’m not going to kiss any girls. I only save that for your mother.”

“Eww…”  

“You can ‘eww’ all you like, young man...but that is not going to change anything,” said Ignis with mock sternness. “Now, run along and wait for me to get ready. And do try not to spill anything on yourself, please. I mean it.”

Ignis’s suit was all prepared the night before. He stared at it, still hanging from the hook against the wall.

There was another resounding boom. The eleventh. All hail King Noctis and his new bride.

His gaze shifted to the other item of clothing next to his.

Aranea’s dress, meant to be worn on this very day. It was beautiful - dove grey satin gleaming in the light, and on her it would look absolutely perfect. He could just see her in it now, flipping her long bangs out of her face as she smiles at him, a shade of glossy rouge staining her lips in such a way that would drive him mad the rest of the day.

She who proudly flexes her independence. One who will not have another man’s name to bind her ever again. He didn’t mind. If anything else, he would still gladly share his privileges and everything he had with her. She could be Lady Highwind or Lady Highwind-Scientia. Whichever she preferred.

He just wanted her back.

Her golden wings were right where he saw it last: pinned on the left side of the bodice.

He took the Scientia sigil pin and placed it over the dress, right next to the wings, wondering how they looked like together. He could ask the College of Arms to combine them both, making it an impaled coat of arms - symbolizing his union with Aranea.

But of course they’d have to get married first.

He’d stored that aside, in the part of him that wishes for several possible futures for them.

But as of right now, he was here, in the present. Aranea would’ve wanted him to soldier on, focus on doing the task at hand. She would’ve even punched him and kicked him in the buttock if she had to. Yelled at him at least. Call him stupid and pathetic and a loser. That’s how she got things done. No time for pity parties. Pick yourself up, toughen up, and keep going with a stiff upper lip. At least that’s what he and Aranea had in common.

He will see her again. Everyday he’s marking down the calendar for the day they’d finally be reunited. He thought about the things that he wanted to do to her, with her…

The doorbell rang. That must be Prompto. They were meant to be going to the wedding venue together.

He clenched his sigil pin in his fist. Noct needs him right now. Julian needs him always. He will do his very best to fulfill both duties.  

As for Aranea...he’d promised that he would wait for her.

And he will.

* * *

 

**THE END.**

**OR NOT.**

**Next episode: Season finale - the bumper issue. Will they see each other again?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the idea of Lucis noble families having their own coat of arms, much like what the British monarchy does. Those especially who have done great service to the country and king will be granted titles and property. Since the Scientias and Amicitias have been in service to the king for two generations, I’d imagined that they too would have their own coat of arms. And most likely Prompto too, under King Noct’s ruling. 
> 
> And yes: there are such things as impaled coat of arms. That happens when two noble houses are joined in marriage. Their coat of arms will then be combined together. So I reckon Lunafreya’s coat of arms would be different once she’s part of the Caelum’s household.


	30. Midnight Train to Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long overdue homecoming and reunion. And on one of the most magical nights of her life, Aranea did something unexpected.

_I'd rather live in his world,_

_Than live without him in mine…_

-Gladys Knight & the Pips ‘Midnight Train to Georgia’-

* * *

 

_13 months later…_

“Blimey, this is madness!”

Biggs craned his neck, trying to see above the throng of people before him. Galdin Quay was especially crowded that day. It took a considerable amount of effort and patience just to get a seat at the restaurant.  

“Celebrity inmate. Who woulda thought?” said Wedge, eyes glued to the flatscreen tv mounted to the wall. It was showing a news telecast, declaring that today was the day of Aranea’s release. The newscaster talked for a bit, before cutting to a blurry photo of Aranea during the day of her hearing, handcuffed as she boarded the airship; followed by a more glitzy shot of her attending an awards show. The irony of the juxtaposed images weren’t lost to Wedge.

“Lady A won’t like this at all. After all this time, she’d want fer herself some peace and quiet.”

“That’s not gunna happen, innit? Thanks to Miss Iris over there.”

They both didn’t have to look. They heard Iris’s voice floating above the crowd, amplified by a megaphone. _“Alright, everybody. Today’s the day she’s coming back! Once she gets off the boat, we give her a big, loud welcome!”_  

The crowd cheered.

“Sit yesself down. No point flapping about. Too bloody hot fer that,” said Wedge.

Someone had actually strung a ‘Welcome back!’ banner from the restaurant’s ceiling. It was amazing how Aranea had morphed into this person whom people didn’t largely know of, to someone who became an unofficial icon for hope...simply because of her highly publicized work with King Noctis. Her military past and subsequent imprisonment only served to construct this dramatic narrative about her, which was added on and fuelled by speculation and conspiracy theories. Biggs sometimes found himself chuckling over the cockamamie stories about her churned out by the internet. No, she didn’t sleep on a bed of skulls. And she most certainly didn’t bare-handedly wrestle a basilisk to the ground. That’s just bloody insane.

“Reckon Scientia would’ve warned her about this?” asked Wedge.

“Warned ‘er? He wulda whisked ‘er away from this. Tha’s wot I’d do.”

Wedge paused in the act of sipping his drink. “What?”

Biggs stared at the man’s dawning expression of confusion. “I don’t think she’d be landing ‘ere. Chances are, Scientia would’ve found another way to smuggle ‘er back to Lucis.”  

Wedge took a moment to stare at the crowd, the banner, the reporters, Iris and her circle of friends she’d managed to gather together. The newscast was done, and now the show had moved on to another segment.

“Yer takin’ a piss outta me, mate?” he eventually said. “Only now you’ve chosen to say anything? Ya could’ve said something _ages_ ago! To Miss Iris! The fuck’re all these people gathered here for, then?”

“It was just a wild guess!” said Biggs. “There’s no tellin’ what goes on in that man’s head! I mean - if ye’d really thought about it, ya don’t even see Prompto around, and y’know how he’s like Lady A’s shadow.”

“The hell are _we_ doin’ here? I coulda stayed at home!”

“Quit yer complainin’! I said I wasn’t sure, yeah? Not even 100%.”

“Make it 20% and I’d still wouldn’t drag me arse all the way out here! Shit, Biggs. Perfect timing. Perfect-bloody-timing.”  

Iris chose that moment to call out: _“Alright, guys...let’s do a practice cheer! Let’s cheer so loud that we could be heard all the way to Gralea, whoo-hooo!”_

The crowd went “Whoo-hooo!”, even in the sweltering heat.

* * *

 

Gralea’s frigid landscape hurtles past as the train clattered down the tracks.

In her swaying carriage, Aranea pulled out her phone and rechecked her e-mail. She’d received thousands since her incarceration, and they all remained unopened. She merely cast a cursory glance over their headings. They’re mostly either spam or well-wishes from well-meaning people. The ones that she really cared about, however, were from Ignis:

 

_My dearest Aranea,_

_I hope this finds you well. Julian is still upset over his dead goldfish. He’d insisted on holding a proper funeral for it, which is precisely what I did just now. He thought of a charming little epitaph for the tombstone. He’d also come up with a new masterpiece for your enjoyment. Please refer to the enclosed photographs._

_We are both looking forward to seeing you again in a couple of days. It is all that we could talk about. Noct and Lady Lunafreya has already made a request for your presence at the soonest convenience. They - along with all of our friends here - are really excited that you’ll be coming back._

_I miss you. Terribly._

_PS: Prompto will sulk if I don’t send you his love...and while I find it highly unnecessary, here it is - XOXO_

 

She smiled at the drawing Julian made. It consisted of her, himself and Ignis all standing together in front of a dead behemoth. Ignis’s spear was sticking out from the monster’s backside. Setting her phone back down, she stared out the window.

Yes, she’s headed for Insomnia. And for the first time in her whole life, it really felt as if she’s coming home.

* * *

 

There was a Lucis-bound ship ready for boarding within an hour.

Aranea skulked around the ticketing counter, now faced with a new dilemma. Without the proper travel documents, she’s bound to be stopped at border control and denied entry. Worst case scenario, she’ll be asked to turn back to Tenebrae and plan her next move - which would be a terrible waste of time. She barely had enough money left. By the time she reached Galdin Quay, a bus ride was all she could afford to get to Insomnia.

She was surprised Ignis hadn’t made any arrangements for this. Surely he’d be able to anticipate the kind of trouble she’ll be running into. One would think that being released from the confines of prison would merit some form of pomp and circumstance. But no - she’d come out with the very clothes she came in; along with a meagre few personal effects and a musty winter coat given to her by one of the guards. She’d left it in the train the first chance she got.

She’d stepped out of the prison gates still holding her breath, expecting for the other shoe to drop and Ardyn would make an appearance to give her even more reasons to stay in Gralea. But the transport meant to be taking her out of the compound was already waiting, and only once she’d set foot on the train station’s front steps that she’d finally heaved out the breath she’s been holding. She was free. Well and truly free. She’s paid her dues, and that was one of the best damn feelings in the world.

Still, freedom or not, she had another pressing matter to worry about, and if she dawdled any longer, she’d have to wait another three hours for the next ship to be available.

Taking out her phone, she speed dialled Ignis’s number. She’d actually gotten it memorized by now. A sudden announcement from the nearby PA speakers blared into her ear, causing her to wince and move away.

He didn’t pick up. She tried again.

_...wind, please...nearest service counter now. Thank you. Paging for Miss…_

Dammit, the ruckus was making it hard for her to hear the phone’s dialling tone.

_Highwind. Miss Highwind. Please make your way to the nearest service counter now. Thank you._

“Excuse me, are you Aranea Highwind?”

She looked up. A female port attendant was bowing at her respectfully.

“Yes?” she said.

“I was told to bring you straight to our Operations office. A special arrangement has already been made on your behalf by His Majesty King Noctis.”

She immediately became suspicious. “Special arrangement? What special arrangement?”

“I wasn’t told, ma’am. I was just asked to find you and take you there. My boss will be available to answer whatever questions you may have.”

She followed the young woman, who lead her through the side entrance of the ticketing gate. They walked down a corridor that was clearly the admin section, where cubicles with glass doors showed people working busily at their desks. She found herself being ushered into another room, with a large mirror running along one wall. There was a table and two chairs, along with a water dispenser in one corner. The whole setup looked uncomfortably like an interrogation room.

“Someone will come along to see you, ma’am. Please have a seat,” said the woman.

“Leave the door open,” said Aranea. She might need to make a quick exit.

She remained standing, staring straight into the mirror and thinking who’s looking at her from the other side. Sounds of people going about their jobs, along with intermittent announcements from the PA system filtered in through the slightly ajar door. Occasionally footsteps could be heard walking up and down the corridor.

The soles of her shoes scraped over the floor as she shifted. Five more minutes here and if nobody comes, she’ll find her own way out.

She heard the door squeak open. She turned just in time to see a streak of messy ash blonde hair hurtling towards her before knocking her back with a big hug.

“Mom!”    

“Whoah, hey!”

She wrapped her arms around Julian and hugged him back tightly, burying herself once more with his scent. He was taller now, his body filling out nicely. Ignis had really put a healthy glow on the kid. It all came back to her at once - how much she missed him, the painful loneliness of being separated from him - they hit her like a jackhammer and soon enough she found herself blinking back tears.

“Are you back this time? Like, for real?” Julian asked, voice muffled against her belly.

“Yeah, kid. I’m back. And I’m not goin’ anywhere without you.”

Someone else entered the room, and she already knew who it was before looking at him.

Ignis.

She felt as if she could die from happiness right there and then. Already she could feel the face-splitting grin on her lips.

“You write emails like you’ve got some tweed stuffed up your ass,” she said. “Sometimes I feel like I’m talking to a sixty-year-old man.”

“You still love me nonetheless,” he retorted, making his way towards her.

“That I do, you smug jerk. That I do.”

“I apologize for this kind of arrangement. It’s all rather last minute, I’m afraid. There’s already a crowd waiting for you at Galdin Quay, and I really need to catch you first before anything else.”

“Waiting for me? Why?”

“Your supporters, mainly. Dino and Vyv did a really good job in rallying their followers, I have to give them that. You owe them both an exclusive, by the way.” He paused, quickly assessing her. “You’ve lost weight.” There was a note of disapproval in his voice.

“Yeah, well. Prison food. I don’t know what they were thinking when they didn’t hire you as their chef.”

His hand came up, touching her chin and tilting it up towards the light. He saw the faint bruise on her cheekbone and his expression darkened. “And this?”

Shit, she’d forgotten all about that. “Parting gift. It’s traditional.” It was actually from a sparring match. “Turns out I could still hand the kids their asses just like I used to.” When he didn’t let up, she added, insistently: “I’m fine. Really. This is a military prison. There’s no hiding shivs up our asses or writing memoirs on toilet paper. Things are more organized where I was at.”

They kissed. Ignis held her tightly against him and gently bit her lower lip. That prompted a surprised hum from her as she broke them apart, eyebrows raised.

“Someone’s feeling feisty,” she commented.

“What do you expect? I miss you, love,” he replied, going in for another kiss. “And if we go somewhere private, I’ll show you exactly how much.”

“Argh, that is _very_ tempting. I-” she was cut off when he hugged her.

“It is very good to have you back, Aranea,” he whispered into her ear.

A tear fell for real this time. She hastily made a move to wipe it off, but Julian noticed.

“Why are you crying, mom?”

Ignis let her go, looking at her with some measure of concern.

She felt her face crumple with emotion, and she tried her damnest to keep them in check. This is fucking embarrassing. They both were staring at her, waiting for an answer. It’s good to be back. Real good. Everything that was right and just and beautiful in this world was right here with her, in this very room.

“I’m just so happy to see you, kid. The both of you. You’re really a sight for sore eyes.”

* * *

 

There was a Kingsglaive uniform hanging from the cupboard door, fresh from the dry cleaner’s.

Aranea stepped out of the shower, towelling her hair dry. She stared at the smartly-pressed suit, at its gleaming buttons and embroidered detailing. She took it out from its plastic cover, running her fingers over the smart embellishment on the cuff. She’d only ever seen them from afar, but touching it and feeling it up close gave her a sense of how this uniform exuded an aura of power and privilege.

She put it on, feeling the inner lining slide against her skin. On Ignis it would’ve fitted him perfectly; but on her, it was oversized and clumsy. Her fingertips barely poked outside the cuff, and the weight of the material rested heavily on her shoulders.  

“It looks good on you. Although it does require an extensive amount of alteration.”

She turned around. Ignis was leaning against the door frame, smiling at her. He’d already tucked Julian into bed. The boy had protested, insisting that he wasn’t tired. It was only after Ignis had promised that Aranea will send him to school tomorrow that Julian finally relented.

“Think the Glaives got an empty spot for a new recruit?” she asked.

He tilted his head, issuing a rather thoughtful look as he pushed himself towards her. “I suppose. Do you have a candidate in mind?”

“Myself, twenty years ago. I have considerable lance skills, I boast top marks in my class, and I’m well suited for a commanding position. You people take in ex-Niflheim soldiers to fight for you?”

“I think, had I met you at that time, I would be very impressed by your skills and experience. And I do not get impressed easily.”

“I know. So, whaddya think? I look sexy enough in a Glaive uniform?”

“You look sexy enough in my clothes.”

She punched him lightly in the arm. “Shaddup! I’d make a rockin’ Glaive and you know it.”

“You would be among the strongest and most formidable fighters I’d ever have the honour of serving with. In fact, I do believe that you are a strong fighter now. Not everyone could go through your experiences and come out all the better.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve got someone who puts me on the straight and narrow.”

“Oh? And who would that be?”

She smiled, looking up at him. Dammit, she hated his stupid grin. Someday this man would kill her with his overwhelming sweetness and care.  

“Prompto.”

He quirked a brow, although his knowing smirk never faltered. “I _see.”_  

She burst out laughing.

“So...managed to get some interesting prison tattoos? One on your chest, perhaps...saying ‘Get it here’? Or a dagger on your left buttock because everyone knows daggers are cool and menacing.”

“I dunno. Maybe you’d have to do a full body inspection just to make sure.”

“Oh, that I shall. What was it like? Being in there?”

“Boring. Really. They make us do menial chores. I haven’t done latrine duty in ages, and I gotta say I don’t miss it. Not one bit. Some of us got computer access. Bet all the emails I sent you was heavily censored.”

Ignis nodded. No doubt whatever correspondence that came in and out of the prison would be scrutinized, dissected and scrubbed clean of any telling information.  

“There’s also a pretty okay library,” Aranea went on. “And their gym’s not half bad. So guess what I did to pass the time?”

“You...finally catch up with your school’s reading list?”

“Hah. Funny. No. What’s it like having Julian as housemate? You two still haven’t killed each other yet, so I’m guessing things are fine?”  

“He is very headstrong,” commented Ignis. “At times when I find myself locking horns with him, it took considerable negotiation skills on my part to reach a compromise between us. One would think that he’s being asked to give up half of an empire judging from the way he clings to his obstinacy.”

“Finally met your match, eh?” she grinned. “Don’t blame him for learning from the very best.”

“He still insists on calling me ‘Ignis’. I’ve...referred to an expert-”

Aranea’s ears perked at the inverted commas sandwiching the word ‘expert’. “A child psychologist, you mean?”

“Precisely. And I was told that this is his way of maintaining control. He has experienced far too many rapid changes in his life that he needed to establish some solid ground in order to reaffirm his own sense of self. But...I was assured that this phase is temporary, and I should let it run its course.”

She finally closed the gap between them, placing her hands on his chest and standing on tiptoes as she gently kissed him. “He’ll come round to it eventually. And if he doesn’t, then that’s fine too.”

He bent down and kissed her again. And again. He missed this. He missed her. There was a distinct Aranea-shaped vacuum in his life which he desperately needed to fill.

“So, first order of the day. What are you going to do next? How will you celebrate your freedom?” he asked. His hands were already undressing her.

She gave it some careful thought, shimmying her shoulders as he slid the Kingsglaive coat off her. “Hmm, I dunno. Probably start another company. A proper one this time. Gonna see if I can get the old crew back.”

“That’s a good one,” he said encouragingly. “Perhaps I could lobby Noct into throwing some jobs your way. I know that there’ll always be new content that needs posting. And Iris’s department needs all the help it could get.”

Aranea uttered a faux gasp. Her t-shirt had found its way onto the floor. “Nepotism. How could you? People would think that I’m only sleeping with you because I wanted some government contracts.”

Ignis shrugged, half-casually. He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her fresh, clean scent. “Perks of dating the Royal Advisor, I suppose,” he rumbled into the soft shell of her ear, sending tremors of pleasure up and down her spine. “What else do you have planned?”

“I’m buying a house,” she said, feeling his fingers hook onto the waistband of her shorts and panties and beginning the slow but inevitable slide downwards. “Not a big house. Just something nice enough for all of us to live in. Three rooms. A library for you to do your work. And another room for my studio. And...and maybe a garden patio...although I suck at plants and all I could manage to care for was a cactus and even then that thing died on me…”

She was completely naked now, and he was staring at her with a look of abject adoration with a borderline of lust. Oh, she’s in serious trouble. Already heat was blooming within the pits of her belly.

“Three rooms,” he said, finger trailing over her collarbone, gently making its way up her neck. “One for us, one for Julian. And pray tell-” The finger stopped over her lips. “To whom does the third room belong to?”

Aranea was stumped for words. The mere hint of whatever possible futures they could have together was just too much for her to fathom at the moment. She was truly free now - the magnitude of that fact had finally sunk in. And she could damn well do whatever she pleased.

“Well,” she said, trying to sound as casual as a desperately turned on woman standing in front of an equally turned on man as she possibly could. “I was thinking that maybe sometimes Prompto would want to sleep over, or Biggs or Wedge, or-”

Whatever funny retort she had in mind was abruptly cut short when his lips crashed against hers.    

* * *

 

“I can’t believe it. I friggin’ can’t.”

A copy of Time Magazine lay open on the table, showing a double page spread. Noctis gestured towards it, an incredulous expression on his face.

“I mean, our wedding photo came out second place. _Second!_ Tied with that peace rally...but this? I was out on the road yesterday, and I saw this photo on a billboard over at Octavia Square. One giant billboard of _this.”_

The photo he was referring to, was a very powerful image: Aranea’s handcuffed hands touching Ignis as they kissed passionately, surrounded by Imperial soldiers pointing rifles at them. That one time the man publicly showed real emotion, and Time Magazine selected it as fucking Photo of the Year.

Noctis levered a sharp look at the usurper, who returned it with an equally cool gaze. His partner-in-crime sat next to him, preoccupied with making sure that Julian doesn’t spill his food all over the floor.

That photo became a rallying cry for anti-war pundits, calling for the cessation of Niflheim’s violence and oppression. Iris, Dino and Vyv would never have gathered the amount of supporters they had if it weren’t for the publicity surrounding it.

Aranea was warmly welcomed back by the royal household. Lunafreya insisted on inviting her over for breakfast, and it was here that, amidst the audience of their dearest and closest friends, the newly minted queen cleared her throat and asked Julian: “Remember that list I’ve asked you to do? Have you given any thought on what you want for your birthday?”

Aranea looked up at this point. Oh, shit...yeah. His birthday’s coming up in a month. No wonder he’s been dropping not-so-subtle hints about presents whenever he’s around her.

Julian unfolded a piece of paper, glances nervously at his audience, and then commenced reading his list out loud. “For my birthday, I’d like to have - um, if possible: 1) A black chocobo; 2) A model airship; and 3) A little brother.”

There was an audible choking sound from Aranea.

“Well, well...a little brother,” said Gladiolus, an unholy grin splitting his face. “Whaddya say, Aranea? Better start crackin’. Or have you guys gotten down and busy already?”

“It shouldn’t be a baby, though,” Julian cautioned. “‘Cuz if it’s too small, I wouldn't be able to play with it. All I could do is touch its head, which is boring.”

“What if it’s a sister?” Ignis asked.

“You’re not helping!” Aranea snapped. To Julian, she said: “Sure, why don’t I just pop into the convenience store and see if they have a little brother vending machine?”

“They’ve got vending machines for that?” Julian asked, goggle-eyed.

Ignis clicked his tongue. “You can’t be serious, Aranea.”

“What?” she said, shrugging. “It’s the same concept. You put something in, and something else comes out.”

“So what do you say?” Lunafreya prodded, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Shall we be expecting some happy news soon?”

Aranea stared at the faces around the table, who’d gone silent and were all looking at her expectantly. Ignis especially. He had this hopeful shine in his eyes, a small smile that belied the wonderful ache in his chest, of how much he loved her and Julian to the point that his atoms would burst to pieces and scatter in the wind.

He’d never force her, she knew that. If she said no, he’ll pour all of his devotion on Julian instead, thankful that he had someone he could give it to. But he’d be thinking about it during odd moments...at times when he least expects it. Of how he wasn't graced with the privilege of witnessing a life growing inside her, and seeing it as it came out of her...

“Well, you came to the right place, buddy,” said Noctis. “I can definitely help you out with that airship model. I don’t know about owning a black chocobo, though. But there’s this guy who runs an awesome chocobo sanctuary, and I think I can pull a few strings to have you touch and feed an actual black one. As for the baby brother, well…” he trailed off meaningfully. “I think your mom and dad would have to sort that one out.”

Aranea growled. “Back off, all of you. This is too much pressure for me!”

They all laughed. She felt a spreading warmth beneath the table as Ignis touched her thigh, soothing her. They’re going to have this talk some more, when they're alone. She just knew it.

* * *

 

_6 months later…_

“Hurry up, slowpokes!”

“Don’t wander off too far!” Ignis cautioned.

He heard the deep chuckle from Aranea, her fingers tightening over the crook of his arm. They were walking through the crowd together, Ignis keeping a sharp eye out on Julian, making sure that he wasn’t swallowed by the press of bodies.

A piece of confetti drifted past his cheek, and he knew a few had settled over his hair. He looked up towards the skyline of Altissia, and a giant decorative banner met his view: _Welcome to the annual Moogle Chocobo Carnival!_

Aranea was looking positively radiant. Lady Lunafreya had ordered a few more custom made Tenebraean lace dresses for her, and she’d chosen one to wear for the day. Julian was practically bouncing off the walls when it was announced that they’re finally going to the carnival, and Ignis made a mental note to send a personal thank you gift hamper and letter to the Madame Secretary for arranging such a lovely trip for the three of them.  

His staff was all in a tizzy when he’d applied for annual leave. Ignis Scientia almost never takes annual leaves willingly. He’d let them stack up until Noctis had to practically sign the approval form on his behalf and force him to go home, even ordering the guards to politely escort him out of the premises should he ever be spotted anywhere within the Citadel.

“Wouldja look at that,” Aranea said, peeling off from him and going towards where Julian was dancing with a Moogle mascot. The boy was dressed in the Carnival’s yellow t-shirt and cap, the red gem over the cap bobbing merrily everytime he moved. Aranea whipped out her phone and started recording them both. Julian was awarded with a balloon and plushie toy for his efforts, and he posed happily with them as she took more snapshots.

“Where shall we go to next?” Ignis asked them.

They went into a cafe and tried out the new commemorative dishes. Julian ordered a beautifully decorated dessert that he felt sorry for eating. Aranea bought a pack of crisps and found the free gift nestled within its contents. She triumphantly held it aloft so that they could see.

It was a plastic mood ring.

“Does those things actually work?” Ignis asked incredulously.

“I guess it does, in a way.” She put it on, and was crestfallen to see it was too big for her fingers. “Who the heck makes giant rings for a kid’s snack?”

“You could turn it into a locket.”

“Pfft.”

Later on, they watched the chocobo race, and attempted some of the sideshow games. It turned out that Aranea was very good at darts, but Ignis had her beat by a small margin. They bickered over it, to which he eventually surrendered his gift to her - a limited edition postcard booklet and a few Carnival vouchers.

They wandered around till nightfall, when Ignis ushered them to the pier where a gondola was already waiting for them. It was specially commissioned to bring them to the concert venue, where they’ll have front row seats to the fireworks display.

As they settled in their seats, Aranea reflected on how the day had been, and of the moments that lead it right to this very second. She suddenly remembered that night on the beach of Galdin Quay, where she sat together with Ignis and a stolen blender, and that was when they had their first heart-to-heart talk.

She looked at him now, perusing the programme card. He caught her staring. “What?” he said.

She shook her head, smiling. “Nothing.”

Julian was bouncing in his seat in excitement. “It’s starting, guys!”

The lights dimmed, and the first boom echoed across the skies. It lit up with dazzling displays of yellows and greens and reds, the fireworks forming wondrous shapes of dancing moogles and chocobos before disappearing, only to be replaced by another spectacle.

Aranea stared at the fireworks for a moment, before fishing out something from her purse. She’d made up her mind: she was doing this.

“Hey.”

Ignis looked down at her, the planes of his face painted with the same shades of the sky. It was then she knew. She really knew that she loved this man. This beautiful and wonderfully stupid man.

_Aranea, don’t you fucking dare cry._

She took his hand. “Marry me.”

His face contorted in surprise, wondering if he’d heard her right. “What did you say?” She’d slid something over his finger.

It was the cheap plastic mood ring. Not quite big enough to accommodate him, so it was stuck at the second joint.  

He stared at it, still not comprehending what was going on.

She slipped something else into his hand, and repeated herself insistently. “Marry me.”

It was a small piece of paper.

But it wasn’t just any paper.

Again he stared at it, uncomprehending. It wasn’t until another brilliant burst of fireworks that was so bright it lit up the entire concert venue that he finally saw what it was.

His hands started to shake.

“Are you...is this...I mean-” he stopped himself, barely able to form a coherent sentence. All he could do was keep his gaze fixated on the paper. His whole world was opening up now, and all that existed at that point was himself, Aranea, Julian…

...and this.

It was an ultrasound, and even in his untrained eye he could make out the vague shapes printed out in shades of black and white.

This was life, and it is growing inside of Aranea at this very moment.

He tried again, not caring how tremulous his voice sounded. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Doctor said that it’s due August. Noct might have someone to celebrate his birthday with after all.”

“Aranea, this is…”

“Wonderful? Exciting? A mistake?”

“No!” he said hurriedly. Firmly. “This is definitely _not_ a mistake. This is stupendous. It’s beautiful. I-” he reached out, placing a palm over her belly, trying to sense what was nestled within. In three months it will become evident, and he felt honoured, privileged; and so, so lucky.

Needless to say, he felt extremely happy.

He looked back up at her, saw her biting her lower lip in nervous anticipation. It probably wasn’t too evident on his face. She did say that he was hard to read at times.

“Yes,” he said. Then, to reassure her that he really meant it, he said it again: “Yes, Aranea. And I will forever say yes.”

Her shoulders collapsed. “Good! For a moment there I was worried that I’d messed things up. I’ve never done this before-”

He embraced her. “It is perfect. Although-” he released her, holding up his hand. “Perhaps I might be able to persuade you to get proper rings for us…?”

“A mood ring upgrade? Gold-plated with plenty of ice to sink a ship?”

“Probably not to that extreme, but…” he stared at her, still amazed at how beautiful she was. He leaned over and kissed her. “As far as proposals go, this is perfect. I love you, Aranea.”

“And I love _you,_ stupid.”

* * *

 

**Next episode: Epilogue**


	31. EPILOGUE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis gets the Talk. Aranea sends Ardyn a surprise present, while she got her own surprise as well.

It was during one particularly bad day where morning sickness had forced Aranea into bed that Ignis decided to break the news to Julian. And so he entered the boy’s room and sat down with him, saying that there’s something they need to talk about.

“Your mother’s pregnant.”

For a moment Julian simply stared at him, impassive. It was almost as if the news wasn’t news at all.

“Do you know what that means?”

Julian nodded, but then changed his mind and shook his head instead, meaning that his head went from up to down but somewhere in the middle changed trajectory and turned left to right.

“It means that your birthday wish is happening, but not that soon. Someday you’ll get a little brother or sister of your own.”

Finally he said something, and it was an “Oh.” Then: “Can I play catch with it?”

“Um, no. Not yet. We’ll need to wait until it’s big enough.”

“Huh. Then I think it’s boring already.”

Sensing that this was an excellent segue for him to start talking about the birds and the bees, Ignis said: “Do you know where babies come from?”

Again with the monochromatic stare. He seemed to have mastered Aranea’s deadpan looks pretty well. “This has something to do with sex, isn’t it?” he said flatly.

“Y-You know about sex?” Ignis sputtered. He wondered where the boy’s source was. Prompto. Gladio. Porn sites. Promoter girls at the sidewalk handing around fliers for hostess clubs. He began to blame himself for not being more stringent when it came to monitoring his son’s internet activities.

“‘Course I do. There’s this lady who came to my school and talked about how boys and girls are different. Boys have a penis and testicles. Girls get periods and hormones. That’s prolly why mom eats chocolates and yells at people a lot. So a guy hugs a woman, they exchange cells, and soon enough a baby grows inside. I dunno how it comes out, because my friend made a joke and we laughed so I missed that bit. But sure, yeah. I know about sex.”

He misread Ignis’s expression, so he leaned over and patted the man’s knee reassuringly. “It’s a tough concept to understand. I know, ‘coz I don’t get it myself. But that’s just how things are.” He got to his feet. “I’m gonna go and get some snacks now.”

Ignis recovered just in time to say, “Er, yes. Yes, of course.”

“You want anything?”

“No, thank you for asking. Please make sure you wash your hands first.”

“Surrreee….”

Left alone, Ignis stared at the wall, dumbfounded. He really couldn’t decide which one was more amazing: Aranea’s pregnancy, or his son giving _him_ the Talk.    

* * *

 

Aranea now regretted ever proposing to Ignis.

She sometimes wished that he would only go full-blown mother hen mode on Julian and Noctis.

But now he had turned all that clucking on her for this past few months. And he was being an insufferable ass about it.

She now lay back, shirt bunched up beneath her breasts. She could feel the ultrasound probe gliding over the layer of gel spread on her skin. Ignis sat next to her, eyes fixated on the monitor. He’d been andamant on looking after her nutrition intake, going so far as to plan her daily meals and making sure that she takes her supplements. He hovers around her at the kitchen, worrying everytime she wanted to take something from the top shelf and she’d refused his help for it. He’d touch her belly every now and then, treating it as if it was some precious cargo.

She, on the other hand, took it all in her stride. Sure, there were bad days, but she kept working as usual, meeting clients and planning shoots. Because he would pout and fret and  frown about it, she had to confine her locations to within the vicinity of Insomnia only. He’d even - after much agonizing deliberation - tentatively suggested that she slowed down with the jobs, of which she shot him a glare and reminded him that this wasn’t her first baby and he should just shut the fuck up and give her a back rub.   

“Everything looks good!” the doctor chirped happily. “It’s got a strong heart - see that little thing beating away?”

“Ah, yes,” said Ignis, a measure of relief in his voice. “That is very good.”

“See? I told you there’s absolutely nothing to be worried about,” Aranea sniped. He closed his hand around hers in response, giving it a warm squeeze.

“Is it too soon to tell whether it’s a boy or girl?” he asked.

The doctor hummed a negative. “‘Fraid you’ll have to wait for that. Baby’s still got a few more surprises to tell you. And - oh.”

It wasn’t exactly a terrible ‘oh’. But it didn’t sound good either.

“What is it?” Ignis asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Nooo...” said the doctor thoughtfully. “But I believe you have _two_ very healthy babies wanting to say hello. See?” She swung the monitor towards them, pointing at two distinct shapes.

Aranea was speechless. “Twins?” Ignis breathed. “I- that…that is…” They stared at each other. Two more hellions running about and wreaking havoc. Will it be two more boys? Or girls? Or one of each? Either way, Ignis was fine with it. They really should start considering moving to a bigger place. Aranea was nervous, incredulous, and incredibly, incredibly ecstatic. And he knew that those emotions were reflected clearly on his face as well. He turned towards the doctor.

“That,” he said, beaming from ear to ear, “Is absolutely fantastic.”

* * *

 

Ardyn regarded the package on his desk. It was just delivered to him this morning. There was no return address, but he recognized Aranea’s handwriting clearly enough. What could she possibly have sent him?

There was a clinking noise as he picked it up. He sliced open the envelope, and peered inside. Perplexed, he tipped it over, letting its contents slide out. They were nothing more than charred bits of metal, all bent and twisted as if from an extreme source of heat.

There was also a note that merely said ‘This is all that’s left’; along with a USB drive, a ‘Play me’ stuck at the side.

Further mystified, he plugged the drive into his desktop, and waited for it to be read.

Inside was only one video, and when he played it, he had to hurriedly spin the speaker volume dial down because a monstrous cacophony of a music started blaring out.

It was a music video from the band called Banshees - a group of four young women dressed in punk clothing screaming and caterwauling into the microphone on how a lothario had broken her heart and now she wants to cut off his testicles.

Ah.

One of _those_ types of music, then. From bra-burning misandric feminists who only became one after they got dumped.

He stared, still uncomprehending as to why Aranea would want to send him this thing.

He was about to yank the blasted USB drive off its socket when he suddenly saw it.

His car.

The one that Aranea had won from the divorce settlement. She really wasn’t kidding when she said she wanted that thing. He didn’t understand why then, but now he did.

The four angry ladies started bashing in his car with baseball bats. They stomped their clunky boots all over the expensive vinyl seat covers. He’d loved the beautiful paintwork with chrome trimmings. It was now marred by dents from hammers and chisels. At one point someone had snapped off the side view mirrors.

This was blasphemy. A murder. Mutilation. And it was happening right before him. What on earth was Aranea thinking? All that money, all those things he had to give her. And she’d used it like this?

Somebody eventually got hold of a bazooka - how was _that_ even allowed?? - and blew up the whole car. That was the _pièce de résistance._ The band members stood proudly amidst the smoking carnage, looking for all the world as if they’d done something asininely brilliant.

The video ended with end credits. Ah, so Aranea did indeed direct this thing.

He looked down at the charred metal pieces on his desk again, picking one up and turning it around. Only now he noticed the flecks of maroon shade that had once gleamed so wonderfully over his car.

Or rather: _her_ car.

Of which she’d pulverized without nary a second thought.

He started to chuckle. Oh, the irony of things.

He closed the video, revealing the news feed he’d been following. It showed the picture of a smiling Aranea, smartly dressed as she received her honorary citizenship from King Noctis. There she was, standing proudly next to the monarch, shaking hands with him as they posed for the cameras. She was officially a Lucian now.

He clicked to another news, a gossip tabloid this time. Aranea recently attended a movie premiere, with Ignis Scientia as her arm candy. Ardyn frowned slightly, looking closer at the photo. Hm, she seemed to have gained an extra pound or two. It was then he noticed the swelling of her belly that realization dawned.

Well, well…

This is all _very_ interesting.

He leaned back in his seat.  

He chuckled again.

Then, raising one hand, he kissed the tips of his fingers then leaned over to press said kiss over Aranea’s picture. Right on her lips.

* * *

 

**Lemme just tell you right now that later on Aranea’s gonna give birth and name the twins Luke and Leia. She dies, Ignis morphs into this Dark Lord with BAMF superpowers and wreaks havoc across the entire galaxy. He builds a Death Star and- no, wait. That’s another plot in another movie.**

**Thanks for reading, and for giving all the comments and feedback. I really appreciate every one of them. What started out as a nonsense idea turns out to be not nonsense at all once I sat down and wrote it. But I love the nonsense. The stupidity. The sheer folly of being human, and I try to instill that on Aranea, Ignis and all the other characters. Hope you enjoyed the rollercoaster ride, and catch you guys around the fandom again!**

**Take care, be nice to each other, and live long and prosper. No, wait - that’s another quote from another series.**

 

**Walk tall, my friends.**

 

**-o-THE END-o-**


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